


The Script

by Tav



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Coming Out, Denial of Feelings, Extreme angst, F/M, Film Scripts, Fluff and Angst, Hospitals, Humor, M/M, Mentions of Death, Teenage Stark and Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 12:23:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 38,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10944441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tav/pseuds/Tav
Summary: Tony Stark is the hottest young star in Hollywood. All the girls want him; all the guys want to be him. When he decides to take on a career changing role as the leading gay guy in a Marvel Productions film, he has no idea just how much his life will change too. New-comer, Steve Rogers, his co-star makes 'acting' gay a lot easier for Tony on set and 'being' straight a lot harder off.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Guys!!!
> 
> So yay, this is complete. This is actually something I wrote back in 2011, but polished it up because back then it was original characters, but the Avengers just do it so much better. 
> 
> Really hope you enjoy.
> 
> A little apology to all the Tony Stark fans who I've pissed off with all my other fics. lol. see guys, I really do love starky too.

“Come on Hogan,” Lee whines, “how can you not see the beauty of this?”

 

“Perhaps there’s a reason I don’t,” Hogan quips bitterly, “have you thought about that?”

 

“That’s because you’re missing the big picture,” Lee stresses dramatically. He instantly spins to the side, turning his attention away from the brooding agent and setting his sights on the young brown-eyed boy who seems to be finding all of this amusing. “ _You_ see it, Tony. Don’t you?”

 

Tony opens his mouth to speak, broad smile giving Lee hope.

 

“Tony-” Hogan interrupts, giving the boy a stern look, “-does not have to make any decisions right now. He has enough on his plate, Lee. You know this.”

 

“Think about it, Tony,” Lee ignores Hogan altogether, stepping around the cluttered table in the 12th floor office to stand right in front of the boy. “If you take on this role, it will be a changing point in your career. You will begin to be viewed as more than just a pretty face, because let’s face it, you are.”

 

Tony chuckles, sitting further back in his seat as Lee moves closer.

 

“That’s enough Lee,” Hogan says, placing a hand between his client and the overly passionate producer to act as a barricade.

 

“You will be challenging the entire industry,” Lee goes on, “You will become the pediment of entertainment. Think about it.”

 

“It _would_ stop the ‘bigot’ rumors about me,” Tony says thoughtfully.

 

“And it will start hundreds of homosexual ones too,” Hogan frowns. “Am I the only one who sees this?”

 

“I dunno,” Tony shrugs, “Jake Gyllenhaal did it.”

 

“Don’t forget Charlie Hunnam. But it gets even better with you. You will be a hero to scores of scared, young, closeted boys who think their sexuality is the end of the world.” Lee places his hands on Tony’s shoulders. Hogan stands abruptly, almost knocking down his chair. “They’ll look at you and they’ll say; Tony Stark…maybe there is hope after all. They look up to you, Tony. _You are Tony Stark_.”

 

“That’s really low, Lee,” Hogan roars. “You have no right putting that kind of responsibility on him.”

 

“Think of how many people you can save,” Lee continues.

 

“Tony, we’re leaving.”

 

“That’s the script?” Tony asks with a soft smile and a raised brow, pointing past both men to the thick, bound document on the disorderly table.

 

“Screenplay, screenplay,” Lee mumbles to himself, carelessly shuffling past it a couple of times before grabbing it and holding it in Tony’s direction.

 

“Tony, no.”

 

“I can read it and get back to you, right?” Tony asks as he holds the stack and views the title page.

 

“My phone is always on,” Lee insists, hope sparkling in his eyes.

 

“Thank you,” Tony stands, letting out his hand and trying not to pay attention to the venomous glare his agent is giving him. “You’ll be hearing from me.”

 

“You won’t regret this Mr. Stark.” Lee shakes Tony’s hand, shooting Hogan a triumphant look as he does.

 

*****

 

Tony shoves his baseball cap down over his flaring dark locks. His hoodie follows.

 

As much as Hogan hates it, Tony’s faded jeans look even more ripped than the last time he’d worn them and his once piercing white shoes are now grubby.  Hogan wonders how he’s ended up with the _one_ eighteen-year-old star who doesn’t detest wearing the same thing twice. But then, it is a reality, that with a face like Tony’s, nobody seems to care what the hell the rest of him looks like. Intense chocolate eyes perfectly placed below thick, healthy eyebrows. A perfectly straight nose above faultless heart-shaped lips.

 

Hogan remembers an article in a teen magazine where the journalist had written that Tony Stark could easily distribute his looks between ten guys and all of them would still be good-looking.

 

Hogan does’t doubt it.

 

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” Hogan steps into the elevator with Tony right behind him.

 

“C’mon, Happy,” Tony shrugs. “I never said I was going to do it.”

 

“You implied it.”

 

“I’m considering it,” Tony casually flips through the pages of the script.

 

Hogan finds himself trying to restrain from grabbing the manuscript and ripping it to shreds.

 

“Well it’s not happening,” Hogan states, matter-of-factly. “Your father would never allow it.”

 

“It’s my career, not his.”

 

“And who started it for you?”

 

Tony chuckles, diverting his gaze away from the dialogue of the opening scene, long enough to look at himself in the mirror. The elevator walls are lined with mirrors. The lobby is lined with mirrors. Tony knows it’s a clever trick to make rooms appear much larger than they really are, but it is beginning to annoy him.

 

Turning on the television to see himself. Walking past magazine racks to see himself. His face is on t-shirts and Coca-Cola billboards and all he ever thinks about is how ridiculous it all is.

 

“My dad started it,” Tony says casually, “but it’s mine now. I’m kinda sick and tired of being Robert Downey Jr. I mean, the show was great, the people were great but it’s over now. And you know what, everyone is expecting me to take on another role as the high school heart throb with good hair and a bad attitude, but I’m not gonna do that.”

 

“Well here’s something that might shock you a little, Tony,” Hogan scowls, “that is exactly all you can do. It’s what you were made for.”

 

“I _need_ a challenge, Hogan.”

 

“You _need_ to listen to me.”

 

Tony shakes his head as he steps out of the elevator. He can feel Hogan on his heel as he makes his way into the reception area. It became reflex a long time ago to pull his baseball cap down really low and stay hidden in the material of his hoodie whenever people walk past. It was annoying to him in the beginning, but now it’s just second nature, so as two little girls with their father come strolling towards the elevator, Tony stays veiled as best as he could.

 

It doesn’t work.

 

“Look, Daddy, its Robert Downey Jr,” one girl says, pointing a tiny finger at Tony.

The smiles on the girls’ faces are infectious and Tony finds himself grinning wildly despite himself.

 

“I’m sorry,” the father says as his daughters openly point and gasp in awe, “they’re just big fans of your show.”

 

“It’s alright,” Tony shrugs. He waves at them pleasantly and they eagerly wave back. When Tony shoots a look at Hogan over his shoulder, Hogan simply rolls his eyes. “Let’s see my father try and do that.”

 

“Smart-ass,” Hogan mutters and quickens his pace, leaving Tony to follow behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

Tony sits crossed legged on the chair; his inability to sit still is making the make-up artist’s job increasingly harder. But her frustration hardly bothers him since he’d warned her conveniently beforehand.

 

“I have no idea where you store all of that,” Pepper says, patting Tony’s flat belly and then gesturing to the plate of donuts on his lap.

 

Tony grins at his assistant, scoffing down another huge bit of deep fried dough before speaking. “Blame it on my trainer,” Tony says simply. He proceeds to munch on his third donut as Pepper watches him in disbelief. “There’s a table full of food that nobody’s eating. What the hell?”

 

“Slow motab,” Pepper vouches for herself, her slender form making Tony raise a questioning brow. Pepper looks at the make-up artist, expecting contribution; instead, the young lady just huffs and continues to apply more powder to Tony’s already faultless face.

“Your father is on his way.” Pepper spoke quickly to break the silence.

 

“Why?”

 

“I dunno,” Pepper shrugs, “-to give you a few words of encouragement? To make sure you don’t screw up? The usual.”

 

“It’s only a talk show,” Tony chuckles at Pepper’s honesty, “how could I screw up?”

 

Pepper gives Tony a look. One that makes him laugh. One that says, _I’ve known you long enough to know it doesn’t take much for you to start trouble._

 

The dressing room door swings open. Howard Stark strides swiftly in with Hogan right behind him. Tony can almost swear he can smell brimstone.

 

“You’re not ready?” Howard frowns, not missing a beat as he grabs the plate off his son’s lap and pulls off the napkin that had been tucked into the collar of his black shirt. Tony cringes for the make-up artist when his father grabs the powder brush out of her hand. “My son does _not_ wear make-up, thank you very much.”

 

“Just skirts,” Tony quips.

 

Pepper has to turn her back to prevent Howard from seeing the amusement on her face, while Hogan gives Tony his usual warning look.

 

“Could you excuse us a moment,” Howard says to the make-up artist. Tony muses over how even the kindest of words that escape his father’s lips still manage to sound like a threat.

 

The young lady makes her way to the door and closes it behind her.

 

“What the hell took you so long to get here?” Howard demands.

 

“I kinda had to stop off at Stan Lee’s studio first.” Tony shrugs casually. He picks up the plate of donuts that his father had placed aside and resumes eating.

 

“Stan Lee?” Pepper asks, unable to hide her fascination. “ _The Stan Lee_? The Genius?”

 

“The nut.” Hogan mumbleds.

 

“The producer?” Howard scowls harder. “What were you doing at a studio when I told you to be here at exactly three o’clock?”

 

“I got an offer from Mr. Lee.”

 

“No way,” Pepper gapes genuinely.

 

“Way.”

 

“Why didn’t _you_ drive right over here like I told you to?” Howard turns on Hogan, who looks stunned by the abrupt rage turned on him. “What the hell am I paying you for?”

 

“Technically, I wasn’t driving,” Hogan says carefully, cowering under Howard’s icy glare.

 

“You let him drive?”

 

“Holy shit,” Pepper completely ignores Howard, her eyes still fixed on Tony. Her smile brighter than ever. All men look at her, Hogan secretly relieved that the attention is off him for a second. “Do you have any idea what it means to get in with Marvel Productions?”

 

“I’ve got a feeling you’re gonna tell me,” Tony rolls his eyes.

 

“You’re on your way now, Tony,” Pepper says simply.

 

“Way? What way? He’s been that way or ages,” Hogan shakes his head. “Tony is the biggest star since Johnny Depp was in _21 Jump Street_.”

 

“21 what?” Tony asks, raising a brow as he stands up and finishes off the second last donut.

 

Howard grabs the plate out of Tony’s hand again and this time filters the contents into a tiny trashcan in the corner, completely ignoring the look of pain on his son’s face.

 

“Hogan, what is it exactly that you have against Lee?” Pepper’s frowning at Hogan now. “You know as well as I do that there is a big difference between making little schoolgirls swoon at your feet and acting in a major motion picture.”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Hogan chuckles evilly, “wait ‘til you hear what it’s about.”

 

“Humor me,” Pepper shoots back.

 

“Well, I haven’t exactly read the whole scr-”

 

“It’s a _gay_ movie,” Hogan states, cutting Tony off.

 

 

All eyes fall on Tony and the room falls into awkward silence.

 

The door swings open.

 

“Tony Stark,” a man with a clipboard and headphones stands halfway through the doorway, “you’re on in five minutes. Please come with me.”

 

*****

 

The studio is packed, not a single empty seat in the house. Tons of eager fans sit cheering, not listening to what the talk show host is rambling on about, and none of them really caring what’s being said.

 

How can they when they’re seconds away from seeing Tony Stark, in the flesh.

 

Tony pulls his arm out of Hogan’s grip as they walk  down dark passageways. People are all rushing, up and down, all acting professional. None of them notice the silent argument Tony and Hogan are having.

 

“I swear to God, Tony,” Hogan whispers harshly, “If you mention anything about Lee, or Marvel or that damn script-”

 

“Relax, Hogan,” Tony frowns, “I’ve got a handle on this.”

 

“That’s what’s scaring me,” Hogan reaches to grab Tony’s arm again, but Tony’s too quick. “Tony, you should-”

 

“Do you wanna go out there for me?” Tony asks. “Do you? Because I don’t mind, but I think the audience might be just a little disappointed.”

 

“Tony, please?” the same man with the headphones from earlier urges Tony to keep following him. “Peggy is seconds away from announcing you.”

 

Tony gives Hogan one last wide grin before following the eager man.

 

*****

 

Hogan stands backstage chewing on his bottom lip as he watches Tony tackle every question with ease. The boy is working the crowd expertly. Hogan doubts that it really matters what Tony says or how he says it. He can tell the entire audience to eat shit and die and they will all still applaud. The power Tony has is overwhelming, the careless discard he has towards it is frightening.

 

“Would you like to take a seat sir?” a lady in the control room asks him. Hogan almost doesn’t hear her, his eyes fixed on one of the many screens and his heart beating thunderously.

 

“I’m fine,” he says dismissively, not wanting to miss a beat of what’s happening on stage.

 

He’s paying little attention anything going on in the room as they give each other orders to zoom in on camera two and roll to add breaks. Hogan’s way too on edge.

 

“So, Tony,” Peggy, the thirty year old, gorgeous, talk show host continues, “you’re undoubtedly the hottest thing since Johnny Depp starred in _21 Jump street_ -”

 

“21 what?” Tony asks for the second time that hour and the crowd laughs and applauds. He has no idea why because he’s genuinely confused.

 

“That’s true, Tony,” Peggy encourages, “and soon people will be saying, _Johnny who_ too.”

 

“Well I don’t know about that,” Tony gives a modest grin.

 

Hogan knows that everyone thinks Tony’s just being unassuming for show. Hogan knows it’s just who Tony is.

 

“I beg to differ,” Peggy smiles sweetly.

 

 _What a Cougar,_ Hogan thinks with a slight shake of his head. Anyone watching the two can easily tell that Peggy is far past mesmerized by Tony and is doing next to nothing to hide it.

 

“They’ve been rumors that your hit show, _Ironman_ , is running its last season,” Peggy says. “Is any of this true?”

 

 

“Well to be honest with you, Peggy,” Tony begins, “there are a few complications that are preventing us from continuing airing the show. That’s all I’m permitted to say.”

 

The audience voices their disappointment with the revelation.

 

“I know, I know,” Tony grins, “but it’s not all bad. I guess this gives all of us a chance to venture out into other fields and find ourselves instead of being behind one character for the next five years, trapped by a contract.”

 

“Well put, Tony,” Peggy nods thoughtfully. “So have you thought of what you want to do?”

 

“Oh no,” Hogan mutters under his breath, his temper and loss of control rising.

 

Tony looks up thoughtfully with a half-smile.

 

“Funny you ask, Peggy,” Tony finally says.

 

“Don’t do it, Tony Stark,” Hogan demands in vain, barely above a whisper.

 

“There is this one thing…” Tony continues.

 

“Well, we’re all dying to hear what it is,” Peggy smiles, “aren’t we guys?”

 

The audience cheers. Tony smirks. Hogan curses.

 

“Well, Peggy,” Tony begins after little deliberation, “I’m taking on a role as the gay protagonist in a Marvel Productions film.”

 

The audience’s reaction is a mixture of astonishment and enthrallment and applause. Peggy is stunned to a nervous laugh.

 

Tony grins brightly, deeply aware of the immense trouble that’s waiting for him backstage.

 


	3. Chapter 3

The reporter isn’t exactly what Tony would call attractive. Take away the make-up and hair extensions and she’ll probably just barely scrape past the first elimination round in Miss America. But then again, Tony thinks, he could just be thinking this because of who the reporter is and what she stands for.

 

Natasha Romanov.

 

The red-haired, red lipped, red horned Vixen of gossip on television. She lives off of the blunders of celebrities, preys on their every flaw. She steals their secrets and stirs them with her pitchfork after adding her own spices, generously dishing out mounds of it to starving, worshiping fans who seem to lick their bowls thoroughly clean every time.

 

Tony chuckles at the image he’s conjured up in his head.

 

A stern look from Hogan wipes the smile off Tony’s face; reminding him of where he is and what situation he’s in.

 

He looks at his mother. Even Maria’s staring nervously at the television screen in Hogan’s office. Whenever Tony screws up – which is often - while everyone else is doing their utmost to make him feel bad, his mother is always right beside him, offering him sweet, silent smiles.

 

There is clearly no luck of that this time around.

 

Maria’s seated beside Howard, both parents watching the television gravely.

 

Hogan stands beside Tony who’s seated right in the center of the room. His arms are crossed and his knuckles are white, fingers wrapped tightly around the PVR remote control.

 

“And in other news,” Natasha Romanov’s smile is thoroughly malicious, “Tony Stark, star of the hit show, _Ironman,_ has overtly come out of the closet. Ladies and Gentlemen, we’ve all questioned his sexual orientation and now we’ve been answered, as he  takes his ‘outing’ a step further by accepting a gay role from Marvel Productions’ producer, Stan Lee. All I can say is, Tony Stark, it’s about time. More news on this when we return.”

 

 

Hogan hits the pause button and the room becomes silent. All eyes fall on Tony.

 

“Wait, don’t tell me, don’t tell me,” Tony says sarcastically, “I’m in trouble?”

 

“Less than a week, Tony,” Hogan accuses, “less than a week and already there’s this.”

 

“Well, you know what,” Tony shrugs, “it doesn’t matter because it’s not true.”

 

“It matters because the world believes it is,” Hogan’s voice rises considerably.

 

“Come on,” Tony rolls his eyes, “everyone knows that half the stuff that comes out of Romanovs’ mouth is complete bullshit.”

 

“Tony,” his mother warns.

 

“It’s not just Natasha Romanov,” Hogan begins, “it’s everyone. The tabloids, the seven o’clock news, the papers.”

 

“I don’t care, Hogan.”

 

“Well, Tony, we do,” Howard interjects sternly before Hogan could speak.

 

“Is it because you don’t want your golf buddies knowing you have a gay son?” Tony mumbles.

 

“I _don’t_ have a gay son,” Howard speaks slowly. Tony wonders if he’s the only one in the room who notices how his fathers’ words sound more like a question than a statement.

 

Is Howard, very indirectly, questioning Tony?

 

“That’s my point exactly. It isn’t true so who the hell cares,” Tony shakes his head. “You haven’t even given the plot a chance, dad. It’s a really great story-line, but the second you hear the word, ‘gay’, your tail goes between your legs.”

 

“Your father is just concerned about you, Tony,” Maria says, placing a hand on her husband’s arm. “We’re all thinking about what’s best for you.”

 

“I think you’re all looking out for yourselves,” Tony points out, calmly.

 

The room falls silent for a moment and Tony’s certain he’s just hit the nail on the head. Then his father speaks. “I’m going to phone Lee in the morning, tell him to keep himself and his contract the hell away from you.”

 

“Dad, I already confirmed on national television that I’m doing it.”

 

“Now you’ll have the chance to confirm that you’re not. It’s about time you grow up, Tony,” Howard’s voice wreaks authority. “Now, what we’re going to do is-”

 

“I’m signing the contract.” Tony interrupts Howard and his father’s face instantly changes a few shades redder.

 

“Like hell you are,” Howard stands abruptly and his wife follows suit.

 

“I’ve already spoken to Mr. Lee, dad.” Tony holds his father’s gaze warily. “We sorta already have this whole verbal agreement thing going. I have every intention of signing the contract. You can deal with your _faggot_ issues your own way, but I’m comfortable enough with my _own_ sexuality to take this head on.”

 

It happens really quickly and unexpectedly. Tony is able to clumsily get to his feet just before his father can get to him. His father has never hit him before; Tony’s never had to worry about it in the least. But something feels different in those few seconds and all Tony can do is get ready to defend himself.

 

But something else intervenes. Something large gets in the way and it takes Tony a second to realize that it’s Hogan.

 

“Howard, please,” Hogan says, his hands on Howard’s chest. “Howie, I’ll sort this out, okay. I’ll sort it out.”

 

It takes Hogan all of five seconds of halting Howard’s advance on Tony before Howard calms down.  

 

With nostrils flaring and eyes narrowed, Howard storms out of the room with not so much as a look in his son’s direction.

 

*****

 

“I swear to God, Pepper,” Tony frowns, “he was gonna beat the shit outta me. I could see it coming.”

 

“You called your father a faggot?” Pepper raises a brow.

 

“No,” Tony lays flat on his back, positioning himself on the bench press. “I told him he can deal with his….okay; I can see how that may have sounded. But that’s not what I meant.”

 

The gym is partially empty just as Tony likes it. It’s probably the very reason he chooses Friday nights to do his main workout of the week.

 

“Maybe you should just listen to them,” Pepper moves out of Jarvis’ way as he walks around to spot Tony, “I mean, they might have a point. This is sort of risky.”

 

“You ready?” Jarvis asks, pretending not to listen to the conversation.

 

“Ready,” Tony confirms. He grips the bar tightly, pushing just enough to unhook the barbell, before lowering it down to his chest. Tony lets out a strained breath as he pushes the weight up, fully convinced that Jarvis is doing next to nothing to assist him.

 

“I won’t,” Tony says, voice heavy as he lowers the weight again.

 

“Focus, Tony,” Jarvis frowns, “you’re arching your back. Don’t arch your back.”

 

“Why?” Pepper asks, taking a swig from Tony’s energy drink.

 

“Because….” Tony says, pausing to exhale when he pushes the weight to arm’s length and hangs it back up.

 

“You’re not done,” Jarvis states accusingly.

 

“Can we take five?” Tony sits up, looking up hopefully at his lean, muscled trainer.

 

 “Okay,” he relents on a sigh, “but stretch. Keep your bones warm, okay.”

 

“Thanks Jarv,” Tony smiles.

 

As Jarvis walks off to another machine, Pepper moves quickly to sit in front of Tony on the ground. She places his foot in her lap, urging him to stretch his leg and roll his ankle.

 

“Because….?” Pepper asks, urging Tony to continue.

 

“Well,” Tony starts, “at first I wasn’t really sure if I wanted to do it. Even after the talk show fiasco. But then I actually sat down and read the script. Pepper, it kept me up all night, I was hooked. This story has to be told, and I want to be the one to bring it to life.”

 

“That good, huh?” Pepper says skeptically. “What’s it about?”

 

Tony’s face instantly lightens up and Pepper can’t help but smile as well. She wonders if he actually knows how striking he is.

 

“It’s about these two guys, young guys, my age,” Tony begins, “and their living out this, perfect love affair behind everyone’s back. I mean, they are madly in love with each other. Then three months before the year is over, Jake, well, the one guy just disappears. His family leaves town. He goes without telling anyone. Not even Zane, the lead actor. My character.”

 

“Uh huh,” Pepper says, seeming no more interested than when Tony had begun.

 

“So obviously, Zane is distraught,” Tony continues.“He asks around town, he tries everything. But he eventually gives up and totally pretends that he’s alright with everything. But something snaps inside him on the day of his graduation. He realizes he’s about to completely move on with his life, go off and study, fall in love, live. And he doesn’t want to. Not without Jake. So guess what he does.”

 

“Kills himself?” Pepper cocks her head to the side. Still uninterested.

 

“Better,” Tony loses no momentum. “Zane tries one last time. He drops everything, packs his life into his car and drives miles and miles to the one place he thinks Jake just might be. I mean, he literally leaves everything behind for a chance. He doesn’t even know if it’s a sure thing, but he goes. He remembers Jake once mentioning a place to him, in one of their many conversations. So he goes there. Day, night, day trip. And when he finally gets there, he _does_ find Jake. And his family. Only, Jake is like, right in the middle of chemotherapy.”

 

“What?”

 

Tony grins when he figures he’s finally gotten her attention.

 

“Yeah,” Tony says, “he’d been hiding it from Zane the entire time. He’d been going through clinical trials back home without telling his boyfriend, but it finally becomes clear to Zane why Jake had been acting strange prior to his departure.”

 

“He was sick,” Pepper says thoughtfully.

 

“Yeah,” Tony grins. “And get this, his reason for not telling Zane was because he didn’t want to hold him back. Jake was thoroughly convinced he wasn’t going to make it, and he didn’t want Zane to have to go through the loss. And they have this whole really emotional reunion, I swear, Pepper, the dialogue in this script is amazing. So anyway, Zane refuses to leave Jake no matter what-”

 

“Stop!” Pepper snaps, shoving Tony’s foot out of her lap. “Don’t spoil it; I want to read it for myself.”

 

Tony laughs and Pepper rolls her eyes.

 

“So you’re crossing over to the dark side?” he continues to chuckle.

 

“I never said that,” Pepper says defensively with a half-smile as she gets to her feet to make way for the return of Jarvis. “I just want to check it out.”

 

“Uh huh,” Tony muses skeptically as he lays back down on the bench press and Jarvis lines up to spot him once again. “You do that.”


	4. Chapter 4

There’s a soft knock on the door.

 

“We’re closed,” the lady behind the desk shouts, taking a drag from her cigarette.

 

The door opens nonetheless.

 

“Didn’t you hear me,” she says, “I said we’re closed.”

 

“I’m sorry ma’am,” the young man says politely with an apologetic smile, “the sign outside says you open at nine.”

 

The lady pulls the blinds apart just a little to cast the morning light on her wristwatch.

 

“Well what do you know,” she says, “nine fifteen. Take a seat kid.”

 

He nods, sitting in the seat across from hers as she fully opens the blinds, spreading light into the once dark office.

 

“I’m sorry to just barge in here,” the boy says, “there’s no one at reception and I didn’t know where to…. what’s wrong?”

 

He’s suddenly uncomfortable. A little worried, in fact, by the way the casting agent is suddenly looking at him.

 

He doesn’t know it’s because she hadn’t seen him properly before when the room was still dark. He doesn’t know it’s because she’s thoroughly taken aback by his remarkable beauty. If only he could know that she would do literally anything to sign him under her name right then and there. But he doesn’t.

 

She shakes her head as if to clear it and gives him a smile, hoping it doesn’t reveal too much of her sudden burst of enthusiasm.

 

“Nothing’s wrong,” she assures, putting out her cigarette in the ash tray on her desk, “I’m guessing I know why you’re here.”

 

 

“Yeah,” he grins, “pretty much why everyone else comes here, Mrs. Carter.”

 

“Please,” she gives him her hand, “call me Sharon.”

 

As he shakes her hand she takes the time to pay attention to everything. From the firm grip of the shake, to the subtle tan of his hand. The old brown pleather jacket he’s wearing to the black polo shirt beneath it. His square jaw and symmetrical face, the sky blue eyes that ooze warmth. His perfect pink lips. The flawlessly styled hair, the type of gold with too much precision to be natural.

 

Sharon looks at him and sees a meal ticket. He’s what she’s been waiting for for the longest time.

She can’t risk letting him find out what a treasure chest of potential he is.

 

“Okay, Sharon,” he says carefully. She can sense his nervousness and she loves it. “My name is Steve Rogers. I haven’t actually been to one of these things in years so I’m not quite sure what to do or what I was supposed to bring. I brought my portfolio though.”

 

“Oh, lovely,” she says, taking it as he handed it over. “You ever done any modeling, Steve?”

 

“Not unless yearbook pictures count,” Steve chuckles. Then he inwardly curses himself for his own flippancy.

 

“Aren’t you cute,” Sharon struggles to mask her amusement, while she inwardly does cartwheels.”

 

Steve wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans, having no control over the way his leg is bouncing up and down. The clock on the wall is ticking far too loudly and the look he’s getting every now and then as Sharon pages through his portfolio is completely unnerving.

 

“Says here you’ve done commercial work,” Sharon says.

 

“Yeah,” Steve sits up a little straighter, hope rising. “When I was six. I did a skit for Drink-O-Pop.”

 

“Never heard of it,” Sharon dismisses aloofly.

 

“Well,” Steve gives a half defeated smile. He’s clearly fast losing optimism and Sharon almost feels bad for him. Almost.

 

“I don’t blame you. It’s really old. Like, twelve years ago. I doubt I would have even gotten that gig if it wasn’t for my mother.”

 

“Your mother’s in television?”

 

“She was,” Steve corrects politely, “sort of. She did commercial writing. She was a published author, but every now and again she’d take on a commercial.”

 

“And what is she doing now, Steve?”

 

“Resting, mostly,” he gives an uncomfortably nervous chuckle. “She passed away a while ago.”

 

“Oh,” now it’s Sharon’s turn to feel uncomfortable, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

 

From the emotion that flashes over Steve Rogers’s face, Sharon’s guessing it wasn’t too long ago that this happened. She will not dare ask.

 

“Mrs. Cart- I’m sorry, Sharon,” Steve carefully changes the subject, “I know I don’t really have a lot of money and probably not even the experience you’re looking for. But, I’m kind of just asking for a chance here. I’ll give you as much as I can…everything I have. I’m really desperate.”

 

Sharon closes his portfolio and studies him from across the table. She can see his face plastered on the cover of a magazine already. She can picture fans screaming Steve’s name. She can see him telling his pitiful life story on the Oprah Winfrey show. The smell of money is so strong it makes her mouth water.

 

“I’m going to have to mull it over,” Sharon says intently. “Run it by a few people, the usual. I can’t promise you anything.”

 

“Okay,” Steve nods, hope completely lost now.

 

“I’ll give you a call some time,” Sharon says dismissively, placing his portfolio aside before sorting through her own papers.

 

“Thank you for your time, Sharon.” Steve says with a polite smile.

 

“No problem,” She says, without so much as a glance in his direction as he leaves the office.

 

Sharon makes a silent prayer that she’s crushed him just enough to make sure he doesn’t go knocking on anyone else’s door any time soon. She hopes he thinks he needs her.

 

She can’t risk letting him know.

 


	5. Chapter 5

“You’re not making my job any easier, Tony,” Pepper tries to put on her annoyed look, but the lazy grin on Tony’s face proves to be contagious once again.

 

“I’m not trying to,” Tony shrugs. Momentarily, he forgets to hold his own weight, leaning onto Pepper a little more clumsily and causing them to stumble in the posh apartment building corridor.

 

Pepper curses, and then laughs.

 

“Tony,” she scolds, “We’re almost there.”

 

“That’s what you said, like, an hour ago,” Tony frowns, propping himself up against the wall as Pepper digs in her pockets for her apartment key.

 

“If your dad finds out you’ve been drinking again you’re in shit,” she says, making an effort not to look at his face. He’s doing that thing again. That thing that Tony does when he’s inebriated. He’s revealing that part of himself that only Pepper knows. The part that scares and excites her all at the same time.

 

“My dad is not talking to me,” Tony grins, “remember? It’s been weeks.”

 

“Doesn’t mean he’s not following up on you,” Pepper informs. She pretends not to notice Tony’s hands slithering around her slender waist.

 

“Oh,” Tony says accusingly, “Do you have to like, report my every move to him?”

 

“Only the dangerous ones,” Pepper smiles, hitting Tony’s hands away once she finds the key.

Pepper opens the door and Tony follows dangerously close behind her. So close that she can feel his every move.

 

“Am I just, like, always pissing everybody off?” Tony asks.

 

Pepper feels her heart skip a beat. This is where it usually starts at times like this. The tone in Tony’s voice, the way he’s clinging to her. She knows where this was going.

 

“I mean,” Tony goes on, “is there something wrong with me?”

 

“There’s nothing wrong, Tony,” she tries to sound casual, just to lighten his mood. Tony’s slipping, she knows. Too much wine does strange things to his mood. She hardly ever understands where all the depression and doubt in himself comes from. Or maybe she does, she just never wants to admit it to herself.

 

“No,” Tony says, halting her progress by tightening the grip around her waist and brushing his lips against her neck. “There _is_ something wrong with me. I’m different, you know that?”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Pepper nods, shivering slightly when Tony reaches up to brush her long blonde strands aside. This gives him better access to the flesh at the back of her neck. “Not many boys your age are household names.”

 

“That’s not what I meant,” Tony frowns, nibbling Pepper’s ear.

 

Pepper sighs, squirming out of Tony’s hold halfheartedly. “And note, I said _boy_ , Tony. We can’t keep doing this. You’re too young.”

 

“You’re young too,” Tony smiles.

 

“Not young enough for you,” she quips. It’s always hard saying no to Tony. And not just because he’s as gorgeous as he is. Not just because he’s sweet and smooth and downright the only decent guy who’s ever shown any interest in her. There’s a whole list of reasons she has to want to say no to him. Even though it seems harder every time.

 

Firstly, there’s the fact that Tony is four years younger than her. She tries to remind herself of this as he slides his hands up her shirt and caresses her gently. Then there;s the fact that she works for him. Focusing on that becomes increasing harder when he turns her around and gazes into her eyes. Then there’s the fact that Tony only ever shows interest in her when he’s under the influence. When he slightly doubts himself about something. As if he’s trying to prove something to someone by being with her, and kissing her, and making love to her. Remembering that fact, on the other hand, usually does the trick for Pepper.

 

Pepper breaks the kiss. The kiss that had been going on for at least three minutes. The type that makes her lightheaded and besotted and so dazed that she hadn’t even noticed Tony’s t-shirt come off.

 

She places her hand and her head on his chest, blonde locks falling in waves over his firm torso.

 

“Pepper,” he whispers. It was a question again.

 

She doesn’t want any more questions from him. He will either be asking her to sleep with him or worse, questioning her about himself. Pepper knows this. Tony has just too many questions about himself, but they never seem to be the right ones.

 

“No, Tony,” Pepper says, her words contradicting her actions when she allows herself to be led back to the living room couch slowly.

 

“You didn’t let me finish,” Tony accuses with that sarcastic grin that drives Pepper crazy.

 

She’d known it would lead to this. From the second she’d received the call from Tony’s friend to pick Tony up from the club; to the second she got into the car. Though she was always annoyed at the late hour and the situation, something perverse about the twisted predictable behavior thrilled her, knowing exactly where the night would lead.

 

She knew she shouldn’t be thinking that, but she can’t help it.

 

He is Tony Stark.

 

“I don’t have to,” Pepper says, running her hands over his bare shoulders. They seem more defined than before. Probably because it’s been a while since she last held him.

 

“Good,” Tony pushes his lips against hers briefly, moving them both clumsily onto the couch. He rolls them over ineptly so that Pepper was straddling his waist, “talking is overrated.”

 

Pepper’s pulse quickens, her heart thumping powerfully as she moves against Tony. She swallows his moan hungrily, replaying the deep, fervent sound in her head. It’s addictive. He’s addictive. She knows she shouldn’t, but she wants more.

 

The loud rap on the door snaps her back to reality.

 

Tony whispers the same curse that Pepper screamed out loud in her head.

 

“You don’t have to get that,” Tony smiles, running his hands up her legs in the process. Pepper can’t believe that she is actually considering it.

 

“Pepper, open up. It’s me,” Hogan’s voice practically shakes the door.

 

Tony rolls his eyes, sitting up as Pepper scurries off of him. She picks up his t-shirt and tosses it to him, beckoning him towards the bathroom.

 

Tony takes his time walking to the bathroom with a slight sway. Once safely inside, he shuts the door and leans back against it.

 

Tony shuts his eyes, irritated by the situation but fully prepared to stay there for as long as it takes. He’s just about to lose himself in his own thoughts until he hears his name.

 

They are speaking about him, Hogan and Pepper, neither sounding happy with the conversation.

Tony presses his ear against the door.

 

“So he’s been staying in a hotel,” Hogan shouts. “A hotel, Pepper. He has a home.”

 

“What the hell else is he supposed to do?” Pepper shoots back, “Howard isn’t exactly making living at home easy for him.”

 

“You’re encouraging him, aren’t you?” Hogan scolds. “That’s why he signed that damn contract. That’s why his father is pissed off at the rest of us.”

 

 

“He would’ve done it regardless, Hogan. You know that.” Pepper calms slightly before continuing. “Besides, I’ve done nothing for that boy other than what I’m paid to do.”

 

Tony grins. _What a load of shit_ , he thinks.

 

“Yeah, well you better start counting your days,” Hogan scoffs spitefully. “Howard is especially not too thrilled with you at the moment.”

 

“Well it’s a good thing I don’t work for him, then. Isn’t it?”

 

Tony smiles, admiring her sass. She’s clearly been spending far too much time with him. The attitude seems to be rubbing off.

 

“Anyway, why are you here?” Pepper continues when Hogan doesn’t speak. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

 

“Tony isn’t picking up his phone,” Hogan says. “I stopped by his room at Le Sapphire and he’s not in. Or not answering the door, I dunno. I thought you might know where he is.”

 

“He told me he was going out with friends,” Pepper lies with a shrug. “I’m certain he’s fine. Just, why don’t you lay off him for a while? Give the kid a chance to actually be a kid. Don’t you think he’s going through enough?”

 

“I knew you’d be no help.” Hogan spits bitterly, making his way to the door. “If he calls you again, you tell him to call me right away.”

 

“Iy Iy, Captain,” Pepper says in the deepest voice she can muster up and Tony finds himself chuckling low again. He can practically see the frown on Hogan’s face through the door.

 

Fortunately for Pepper, once the door is shut, she’s able to fully remember her place. And when Tony steps out of the bathroom with his shockingly brown bedroom eyes and still half naked body, she’s able fix her demeanor. Even if it is just barely.

 

“You, couch,” she orders, making her way to the hallway cupboard to retrieve her guest duvets.

 

“Hogan spoils everything,” Tony gives a lazy laugh when the duvet is shoved into his arms.

“I’m taking you home first thing in the morning.”

 

Pepper doesn’t waste time walking to her room. She doesn’t even wait to see him make out the couch. But she does turn to him just before shutting her bedroom door.

 

“Goodnight, Tony.”

 

Tony returns her smile. “Nightio.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

“I’m sorry, that was terrible,” the boy says nervously, “Can I try again?”

 

“I’m sorry Peter,” Rhodey shrugs earnestly, “I think we’ve heard enough. We’ll give you a call, okay?”

 

“Cheers Petey,” Tony says, “Thanks for coming.”

 

Although the boy had looked close to tears seconds before, the few words from Tony instantly brightened his mood. So much, in fact, that he nearly loses his step on the way out of the audition room.

 

“Right,” Tony sits up in his seat, absolutely loving every second of this, “whose next?”

 

“Thor Odinson,” Rhodey says, paying next to no attention to Tony as he sifts through the headshots in front of himself.

 

“A hundred bucks says that’s not his real name,” Lee rolls his eyes, sitting back, seeming less amused as the hours go by.

 

They’ve been through at least two dozen boys, all auditioning for the same roll. Lee inwardly questions his decision to agree with James Rhodes to aim this roll at a newcomer. But then, Rhodey is renowned for assembling the best casts in film, he’s been doing it for years. And so Lee, though exhausted, decides to let go of the reigns and let the master do his job.

 

Maria Hill, however, is thoroughly involved in what’s going on. Even more so than Rhodey . No one expects any less from Hill. Her ability to find entertainment in the most boring of situations is exactly what makes her one of the best directors in Los Angeles. A vicious rose amongst thorns, having no trouble showing the male-dominant industry exactly how tough she is.

 

“Could you send him in,” Hill says to her assistantbefore shooting an angry smile over her shoulder at Tony. “And not another peep out of you.”

 

“What am I doing?” Tony asks, almost managing to sound as innocent as he looks.

 

“You’re making the poor boys nervous as shit,” Rhodey says with a frown, entwining his fingers behind his head. “You’re not even supposed to be in here.”

 

“Well I’m sorry Rhodey, but I think I should have a say in who my husband is gonna be,” Tony grins.

 

“No you don’t,” Hill quips, “You get to sit in and watch if you promise to blend in with the chairs.”

 

“As if that’s doable,” Lee scoffs with a grin. “ _I_ invited Tony. Can we just get on with the task at hand and pretend he’s not here. No offence Tony.”

 

“None taken,” Tony shrugs, shooting one more triumphant grin at Hill and Rhodey. Lee seems to be pampering the hell out of Tony, and Tony is not the only one who notices.

 

“Besides,” Lee adds, “I think his presence puts necessary weight on the boys’ preformance. It’s kind of like an experiment, you know, to see if they can work under pressure.”

 

“That’s what the camera is here for,” Hill raises a brow, pointing to the large piece of expensive, complex equipment placed strategically intrusively right in front of the audition chair.

 

“And you’re doing a great job, Scott.”

 

“Thanks Tony,” the cameraman smiles, returning Tony’s thumbs up.

 

“Ms. Hill,” the assistant says timidly from the door, grabbing everyone’s attention, “Thor Odinson is here.”

 

All eyes fall on the young man who’s just entered the room, his smile proving to be terribly infectious.

 

His golden blond hair is tied back in a short tail with strands falling out at precisely the right places. His eyes are a deep blue that can be seen from across the room. The light stubble on his chin gives him a slightly rebellious look. Tony can picture this guy on a stage in tight faded jeans with an acoustic guitar and a microphone.

 

“Mr. Odinson,” Rhodey says delightfully, as he’s done countless times before. “Please, take a seat.”

 

“Thank you, don’t mind if I do,” Thor says, his melodic raspy voice confirming what Tony had just been thinking.

 

“Do you wanna start maybe by telling us a little about yourself,” Hill says. She knows she isn’t the only one that notices how calm Thor is compared to the other boys. He holds the script professionally in his hands instead of twisting and folding and bending the edges. He looks right at home in the chair with his legs extended casually; the camera not deterring him at all.

 

Even when Thor spots Tony for the first time, he simply gives an acknowledging grin. It’s nothing short of a sly smile. When Hill looks over her shoulder at Tony, he seems to be returning it. No cocky comments. No clever remarks.

 

Tony is silent for once.

 

“If you see there in my portfolio,” Thor begins, eyes continuously darting to Tony - holding the gaze for brief moments with the same calmness, “I’ve mainly been an extra in music videos. And I also had a modelling contract with Nike.”

 

“Yeah, I see,” Rhodey says, shuffling through photos once again. “This is very different from your norm. What made you decide to try out?”

 

“Well,” Thor chuckles, “I’m not exactly gay, but-”

 

“Not _exactly_?” Tony interrupts with a smirk.

 

“Tony,” Hill warns over her shoulder.

 

“I’m just really dying to know what that means. _Not exactly_ ,” Tony raises a mischievous brow. “So what, like, you’re only gay on weekends or something?”

 

Scott chuckles behind the camera, silencing the second Hill shoots him a look. She is deeply shocked, however, when she realizes Thor is laughing too.

 

“That’s not what I meant,” he says calmly, eyes now completely fixed on Tony.

 

“Well then, what did you mean?” Tony retorts.

 

“Okay, that’s enough,” Hill stands, “Thor, could you excuse us for a second.”

 

Thor nods, watching as Hill walks over to Tony sternly gesturing to the door.

 

Tony rolls his eyes, gets to his feet and walks to the door, well aware that Hill is right on his heel.

 

“You’ve outstayed your welcome,” Hill says sternly once they’re out in the hall and the door is closed.

 

“Oh come on, Maria,” Tony beams, “he didn’t mind. You saw him. I was just asking a question.”

 

“Goodbye, Tony,” Hill states, a tiny smile gracing her features as she noticed Tony’s blatant desperation to stay.”

 

“Whatever happened to democracy?” Tony smiles anyway as he turns to leave.

 

 “Let’s carry on,” she Hill sighs as she reenters the room and takes her seat once again. Rhodey looks relieved that she’s alone. Lee, slightly annoyed.

 

“Where’s Tony?” Thor asks, taking everyone off guard.

 

“He had a prior engagement to attend to that must have just slipped his mind,” Hill smiles.

 

“That’s too bad,” Thor shrugs.

 

“It’s a tragedy,” Rhodey adds contemptuously before gesturing to the script in Thor’s hand. “Do you mind reading for us. Scene seven will do. Ms. Hill will run through it with you.”

 

Thor complies and for the next few minutes they go through the dialogue. Lee listens contently while Rhodey jumps from scene to scene. Hill speaks fluently, thoroughly engaging herself in her various roles. And it’s easy considering how well Thor pulls his own weight.

 

And by the end of it, it’s clear to see who their best candidate of the day is. But it’s even clearer that, Thor Odinson, though terribly impressive, is not at all right for the character he’s auditioning for.

 

“Thank you, Thor,” Rhodey says, “You will definitely be hearing from us.”

 

And Rhodey really does mean it.

 

They all look at each other once Thor Odinson leaves the room.

 

“Close,” Hill sighs.

 

“He’s just not _Jake_ ,” Lee concludes.

 

“Who’s next?” Rhodey asks no one in particular as he tiredly flips to the next portfolio. “Steve Rogers.”

 

“Can you please send him in,” Hill asks her assistant… for the last time that day.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Tony walks down the studio corridor, a heavy box in his arms and a lollypop in his mouth. The red candy is making his already pink lips even rosier.

 

It’s an early Sunday morning and the place is abnormally vacant, but the few employees that he does walk past greet him with much enthusiasm. They have no idea why he’s been doing odd jobs around the studio of late. They have no idea why he is offering to get the crew coffee or spending hours in Lee’s office.

 

They have no idea it’s because Tony’s avoiding his lonely new apartment and will do anything to keep away from the ominous serenity it brings. It’s a constant reminder of how his father is still furious with him. And although it’s been a plan of Tony’s to leave home at eighteen, he hadn’t wanted it to be like this.

 

As Tony nears Lee’s office, he notices someone waiting just outside - a young man sitting in the foyer.

 

“Can I help you?” Tony asks once close enough, his words slightly distorted by the hard candy rounding his right cheek.

 

“Uh, no thank you,” the boy smiles nervously, “I’m just waiting for Mr. Lee.”

 

“Oh,” Tony nods down at him and then towards the door, “you can wait in the office if you’d like.”

 

“Okay,” he shrugs after little thought before getting to his feet.

 

“Could I get a little help here,” Tony nods again, this time over his shoulder, “the key is in my back pocket.”

 

“Sure,” the boy agrees awkwardly as if not offering before being asked is the rudest thing he’s done all year. .

 

There’s a short silence as the stranger digs into Tony’s pocket, the tight denim leaving little room to avoid the type of contact that could be classified as second base to theoreticians. Tony can’t help but smile.

 

“So, do you have an appointment with Mr. Lee?” Tony asks; entering the office once the door is unlocked for him. He drops the box onto Lee’s desk and takes off his baseball cap as he moves to shake the other boy’s hand.

 

“Yeah,” he replies, “he called me this morning. It feels really weird getting a phone call from Marvel, my dad still can’t believe it when he hears it. Mr. Lee says he’s got someone he wants me to meet.”

 

Tony’s grin widens for two reasons.

 

Firstly, even with the discarded lollypop and tossed baseball cap, the other boy still doesn’t seem to realize that he’s talking to Tony Stark.

 

Secondly, they’re still shaking hands, neither bothering with actual introductions.

 

Tony isn’t about to blow his cover just yet, not when he can see amusement brewing in the oblivion outlining the situation.

 

“Can I get you some coffee, Mr. …?”

 

“Please, just Steve is fine,” he replies politely. “And yes please, I could use a cup.”

 

“Steve?” Tony raises a brow, “Steve Rogers?”

 

“Guilty.”

 

Tony almost loses his phlegmatic demeanor, taken slightly off guard with the fact that this is the kid.  This is the boy who’s been chosen to be his co-star. Everyone in the studio has been speaking so much about Steve Rogers, and with twenty days until production, Tony had known he was bound to meet him sooner or later.

 

But not quite like this.

 

He has no idea what to think about Steve Rogers.

 

The kid is clearly humble and comfortably tense, like humility is amour he never leaves home without.

 

And he’s beautiful. Steve is really beautiful.  

 

It’s not that Tony would have taken Steve’s appearance into consideration were it not for the fact that Steve Rogers is going to be acting with him. They’re going to be continuously compared with one another, based on everything they do by everyone who sees them together. Tony knows this from experience.

The old against the new, the known versus the fresh. It’s one long media stretch of who wears it better. It’s going to be a challenge.

 

Tony doesn’t like challenges. He lives for them.

 

“ _The Steve Rogers_ ,” Tony smiles genuinely, “Lee can’t stop talking about you. So, what do you think about the script?”

 

“Honestly,” Steve says thoughtfully, “I can’t begin to tell you how lucky I feel. I mean, I thought my agent was gonna have me doing modeling bits forever. Then she spoke about this senseless teenage show, and I mean, I was grateful for her major effort, don’t get me wrong. I just, always thought if I get into the business I’d do something meaningful. You know?”

 

“Yeah I know,” Tony agrees with his back towards Steve, pouring a fresh pot of coffee into a mug. One of the promotional mugs that Lee keeps on his shelf. It’s a beautiful black mug with Tony Stark’ name and face on it. “Like these rich kids on television have nothing better to do with themselves other than party and screw each other.”

 

“Finally, someone with some sense,” Steve laughs, suddenly a lot more comfortable and undoubtedly due to the fact that he thinks that someone actually shares his view. “They’re just shoving how better their lives are in our faces and people actually buy into it.”

 

“Like that one show, _Ironman_ ,” Tony adds, “pure bullshit.”

 

“Oh, don’t let me get started on that,” Steve scoffs. “I swear, the only reason why people watch that show is in the hopes of Tony Stark taking his shirt off-”

 

Steve goes silent, eyes going wide as he looks at the picture on the coffee mug that’s being handed to him. Looking from the mug to the smiling sender leaves no room for questioning. Sure, the mug does portray a well-groomed young man, with perfectly spiked hair and a bad-ass attitude. And sure, the person standing in front of him looks the complete opposite with his hair all shaggy, dressed like an ordinary kid with a friendliness that matches the intensity of his bright brown eyes. But Tony knows Steve finally sees it.

 

He gives his best _Tony Stark_ smile as Steve’s face reddens and he tries to search for words, lips parting and closing but nothing coming out.

 

“Oh hello, Steve,” Lee says cheerily, entering the office before Steve can speak. “I see you’ve met your co-star.

 

“Nice to meet you Steven,” Tony practically purrs.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Tony paces back down the corridor, swinging his car keys around his index finger. If Lee had noticed the awkward silence between the two young men, he hadn’t let on.

 

Tony’s sure Lee assumes the silence is there for all his own reasons. Tony’s sure Lee saw right through his calm, quiet facade and noticed every time Steve stole nervous glances at him in return. Tony wonders how good an actor Steve Rogers actually is, because he did a pathetic job of disguising his embarrassment the entire time in Lee’s  office.

 

When Lee had finally finished speaking to the two young men, Tony had simply shook Steve’s hand and said his goodbyes.

 

Tony’s feeling overconfident and is unapologetic about it. When it comes to Steve, Tony is now certain that he’s one step ahead with full reign of over the situation. So much so that as he keeps walking, he does a mental countdown from three, grinning widely when his name is called just as he reaches zero.

 

Tony turns around, putting on an incredulous face as he meets Steve’s eyes from a distance.

 

Steve covers the ground between them, falling into step with Tony as he immediately continues down the hallway.

 

“God,” Steve sighs, “I’m real sorry ‘bout that back there. I didn-”

 

“It’s alright, man,” Tony smiles, giving Steve’s shoulder a friendly shove. Then as if to keep the next part covert, he throws his arm around Steve’s shoulder and leans in close to his ear. “To tell you the truth, I don’t think much of that show either,” Tony whispers.

 

Steve looks at Tony, their eyes locking. Steve is trying to search for honesty in Tony’s words, truth he can’t seem to pin with the grin still present on the other boy’s face.

 

“Okay but,” Steve clears his throat, Tony’s arm still around him is distracting to say the least. It’s mere friendly contact. Only, it’s _Tony Stark_. “I said that thing about _you_ ; I didn’t mean to insult you like that. I’m sorry.”

 

“Was that an insult?” Tony raises a brow, “Because we’ve got over ten million viewers and fans all over the world and if the stats are that high just to see me naked, I’d say that’s a compliment.”

 

“I never really said _naked_ ,” Steve blushes, a bemused smile on his face.

 

“It was implied,” Tony shrugs as they enter the elevator. Steve is just about to argue before Tony purposely interjects. “So, you going to the premier tonight?”

 

“Premier?”

“Yeah,” Tony finally lets Steve go to press the button for the ground floor. “Weren’t you listening to Mr. Lee? The premier for _Winter Soldier_? Tonight?”

 

“I’m invited?”

 

“He was talking to both of us, pansy pants,” Tony chuckles, quoting a direct and particularly tasteless insult from the script.

 

“I thought those things were only for famous people,” Steve says earnestly, clearly having separated himself from everything despite the golden invitation in his pocket.

 

“You should ride with me,” Tony’s grin finally returns, refusing to feel any sort of remorse for the antagonist. “Showing up on foot will totally kill whatever rep you might get by being seen around with me.”

 

Steve and Tony both laugh, oddly at ease enough with each other as the elevator doors slide shut.

 

*****

 

“Now, whatever you do, do not talk to Natasha Romanov,” Tony goes on. “Few get passed her without shedding tears, and that includes the men.”

 

Tony looks over at Steve who is running his fingers gently over the controller buttons in the white vehicle.

 

“Are you listening to me?”

 

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I am.” Steve tears his eyes away from the vehicle’s interior long enough to look at Tony. “It’s just; when you said you’ll pick me up I didn’t expect a limo. I mean, I should have, but I didn’t.”

 

Tony waves a dismissive hand, immediately feeling uncomfortable by the way that Steve’s in awe with him and what he owns. Steve has been like this from the second the trip began.

 

“Where was I,” Tony continues, “Oh, yeah. The reporters you do wanna talk to are Phil Coulson and Loki . Coulson is easy to spot- balding man, always wearing the same hideous blue suit. And Loki –”

 

“Tony,” Steve interrupts inadvertently and quietly, once again displaying how he’s been paying next to no attention to Tony’s rambling. “I- I’m a little nervous.”

 

Tony looks over at Steve, really studying him for the first time that night. His face _is,_ in fact, noticeably paler and he’s wiping his palms over his thighs. Tony also notices that Steve’s taken his advice by mixing old jeans with new shoes and an old jacket with a trendy t-shirt.

 

In fact, Steve has followed Tony’s advice so well that they’re almost dressed exactly alike, save for the different colors. While Tony is in dark tones and silver chains, Steve is in a green top and snow-white shoes. Green really suits him, Tony thinks. It matches the color Steve’s face is changing.

 

“You’re just _a little_ nervous?” Tony says incredulously, “Hell, I’m pissing my pants here.”

 

Steve takes a moment to look from his hands to the boy sitting beside him. He knows Tony’s intentions, and he’s kind of grateful. But he can’t help feeling a little bit mocked even though he knows Tony’s heart is in the right place.

 

“C’mon,” Steve says, “you’re totally used to this.”

 

The limo slows and Steve’s heart begins to thump uncontrollably. He regrets not training his eyes out the tinted windows because they’re suddenly surrounded by scores of fans. The uncontrollable crowd is screaming and jumping, holding up signs and dying to cross the belly high fencing that’s blocking them. The men in uniform are possibly the only things keeping them from leaping over the simple obstacle between them and their idols.

 

“Shit,” Steve curses softly, so enthralled by everything that he doesn’t notice Tony taking his hand. He doesn’t notice himself willingly entwining his fingers with Tony’s. He only notices when the car comes to a complete standstill just in front of a wide red carpet and Tony’s warm breath hits his ear - dangerously close and low.

 

“Trust me,” Tony whispers, “You never get used to this.”

 

Steve looks back at Tony, brave enough not to move away even though they are far too close. Tony’s smile is so breathtaking; it has Steve’s heart beating even faster. He looks down at their joined hands for the first time and sighs with the tiniest grateful smile. And then Tony lets go all too quickly in Steve’s opinion, but just in time when he notices the valet swinging the door open.

 

“Come on,” Tony smiles, giving Steve’s shoulder a nudge. “Let’s try and enjoy this circus.”

 

*****

 

It’s overwhelming.

 

The flashes are blinding and coming from all angles. The rants are even louder than before. Steve had thought the fans were bad enough, but the reporters are just _vicious_.

 

As they stroll down the red carpet, he has no time to admire the other celebrities and their shiny costumes. He’s concentrating too hard on not tripping. Not smiling too hard. Trying to remember if he checked his hair before he left his hotel room or his teeth after he flossed.

 

Simply put, it is a terrifying.

 

He looks over at Tony.

 

Tony Stark - the star – who is doing absolutely phenomenally. Scores of reporters are screaming for him and he’s doing his best to make time for all of them. He’s already signed scores of autographs and at least six out of ten witty remarks he’s made that night will certainly make the morning paper.

 

“Tony Stark,” comes a lady’s voice from amidst the entire din. “Tony, can I have a word with you.”

 

Steve notices Tony’s face go from genuine amusement, to a tight, forced smile. He notices this happen the second he stares into the eyes of a beautiful, red-haired woman.

 

“Natasha,” Tony acknowledges, “anything for my favorite fabricator.”

 

Steve’s suddenly wracking his brain to remember what Tony had told him about a Natasha.

 

“Let’s not be bitter, Tony,” Natasha Romanov drawls, “fabrication is merely reproduction of the truth. And let’s face it; your life is all about _production_.”

 

Tony has to restrain from rolling his eyes in front of thousands.

 

“So tell us, Tony,” Natasha goes on, “did your break-up last year with your co-star, Diana of _Ironman_ have anything to do with your sexual orientation?”

 

“Depends on which _orientation_ you’re talking about,” Tony smiles.

 

“What are you talking about Mr. Stark?” Natasha chuckles almost evilly. “Everybody only has one.”

 

“Well that’s where you’re wrong, my dear,” Tony holds his chin thoughtfully, oozing mockery. “If you’re talking about the orientation that I _am_ , then the answer is simply, no. We didn’t break up because of that. You can say it was due to… artistic differences if you’d like. And if you’re talking about the orientation _you_ gave me on national television, then the answer is yes. She always found it impossible to be with someone whose hand was constantly down her brother’s pants.”

 

Some reporters gasp and others just chuckle, their mutual distaste for all things Natasha Romanov delighting in the sickened look on her face.

 

“Is that all Mrs. Romanov?” Tony askes, taking the utmost pride in knowing only a select few celebrities are able to render her speechless like that.

 

Without waiting for her reply, Tony moves away, loosely clutching Steve by the arm in tow.

 

“Let’s get the hell inside before –”

 

“Mr. Stark,” another reporter shouts, interrupting Tony’s escape. Tony turns to see who it is and finds no reporter he knows in particular. Tony likes new reporters. They’re even grateful for a simple smile like the one he offers as he walks over to her. “Mr. Stark, my name is Laura from Hawkeye.”

 

“Hello Laura,” Tony ups the charm, making the young lady blush brilliantly.

 

“Hi,” she giggles for all of a second before quickly pulling herself together as if reminding herself that she’s a journalist before an enthusiast. “There have been rumors going around that Lee has already got a full cast for his next movie. Are there any other faces as glamorous as yours that will be featured in this movie, and if so, are you at liberty to tell us who?”

 

“As a matter of fact, Laura,” Tony doesn’t think twice before nudging a half unwilling Steve to the front line, “this young man right here. His name is Steve Rogers. He’s my co-star.”

 

It happens instantly. Like raw steak being tossed in the middle of a pack of ravenous and rabid wolves. Microphones and flashes are suddenly all on Steve Rogers. A thousand and one questions are being thrown at him. A whole new wave of nervousness washing to shore.

 

“Can we get a picture of the two of you?” one of the well-known and more respectable photographers asks over the heightened commotion.

 

One would easily believe that this is their joined debut and not the premiere of _Winter Soldier_.

 

“Sure thing,” Tony says, reversing towards the premiere’s backdrop because he knows it’s they’re the kind of shots all photographers want for their respective magazines.

 

And just as Steve finds a place right beside Tony, Steve almost chokes on the breath he catches. Startled and frozen solid, Steve can’t even begin to imagine what the hell Tony is thinking as he moves both hands to Steve’s face and presses their lips together.

 

The crowd goes wild.  

 


	9. Chapter 9

The last scene has all eyes glued to the big screen ahead. Then the music fades out as does the screen until the entire place was filled with blackness moments before the credits roll.

 

The entire audience breaks out into a roar of applause, tears in the eyes of some and smiles on the faces of most.

 

As the audience slowly begins to make their way out and the stars of the movie prepare themselves for the inevitable interviews, Steve glares at Tony once again. He’s been doing it throughout the entire movie. Tony was either pretending not to notice or really didn’t care.  All Steve had received from Tony was a questioning shrug the single time that Tony wasn’t ignoring Steve all together.

 

“Why did you do that?” Steve whispers loudly over the powerful soundtrack and the hum of everyone’s chatter.

 

“Because the movie was beautiful,” Tony shrugs, “weren’t you watching?”

 

“Not applaud.” Steve frowns. “Why did you kiss me?”

 

“Oh that,” Tony sighs, sitting further back in his seat. He smiles at his colleagues that slowly bustled out of the Hollywood Cinema. “Do you think anyone noticed?”  

 

 “You see that’s what your problem is,” Steve stands, raising his voice considerably. “You think everything is a big joke.”

 

“Would you calm down and stop drawing so much damn attention to yourself,” Tony stands too. He reaches for Steve’s arm to stop him from walking down the narrow aisle towards the exit doors.  

 

Steve turns back to glare at him, shrugging his arm out of Tony’s grasp.

 

“Relax,” Tony continues, “everybody knows it was just a publicity stunt, okay. We’re gonna go to the after-party, some poor sap is gonna get shit-faced and make an ass of themselves and someone else is gonna get it on camera and I swear, tomorrow, nobody is gonna care about what happened _before_ the premier.”

 

“You know what? I think I’ll rather just go back to my hotel room”

 

“Come on, Steve,” Tony grabs his arm again when he turns to walk away. “Is this just because I kissed you? Because that really meant nothing.”

 

“Tony, you may be looking for that quick fix of attention that comes with fame, but here’s a newsflash for you – I’m not.”

 

“Oh don’t give me _that_ bullshit.”

 

“What bullshit?”

 

“That whole _I’m not in the business for the money or fame_ ,” Tony says mockingly, “ _I’m in it for the love of the game_. Jesus, we can only handle one Keanu Reeves at a time.”

 

“You don’t know a thing about me, Tony,” Steve shoots back, the offence clear in his eyes and in the way his voice hitches ever so slightly.

 

“Then where the fuck do you get off acting as though you know me,” Tony frowns. “Buckyt you were doing it before you even met me. Everyone is always doing that.”

 

Steve notices the frustration on Tony’s face. His voice has become considerably louder as well. It snaps Steve out of the little fight they are having and brings him back to their surroundings.

 

People are still exiting the venue, but the few curious glances in their direction don’t go unnoticed by Steve.

 

Looking back at Tony, Steve begins to realize how pointless it is fighting with him. Although the short time that they had spent together that day had been enjoyable and Tony has been great company, it isn’t enough to cover the fact that he still is _Tony Stark_. And Steve knows he’s just _Steve_ and the two of them are from two completely different worlds.

 

There is absolutely no way he can keep up with Tony – or any of these people for that matter.

 

“Thanks for the ride over,” Steve says calmly, “I’ll find my own way home.”

 

“No wait, Steve,” Tony sighs, following Steve once more. “Wait, don’t just leave.”

 

“Look, I’m not going to some party.” Steve scoffs,  shaking his head. “You don’t get it. I’m not one of them.”

 

Tony looks around at no one in particular, feeling slightly uncomfortable for Steve once again.

 

“I’m not one of you,” Steve adds quietly, as if just remembering that little fact himself.

 

“Okay,” Tony finally speaks after a particularly long and uncomfortable silence. “No party, I swear. We can just hang out. We can try that, right? I’ll even tell my driver to take the night off and we’ll take a cab and get some cheap beer and greasy questionable burgers and just…hang.”

 

Steve cocks his head to the side, hating the way he’s unable to completely vanquish his smile. He’s looking at Tony thoughtfully and Tony is watching him hopefully.

 

Steve can’t quite wrap his mind around why Tony is trying so hard. A part of him knows Tony is just making an effort to make him feel like he can fit in. Part of him believes Tony feels sorry for him. The most part of him wishes that Tony just enjoys his company. It’s far-fetched even just thinking about it, but we wants to believe that.

 

“Okay,” Steve finally nods. “But, the limo is kinda cool.”

 

Tony smiles triumphantly as they exit the theatre.

 

*****

 

It finally becomes clear to Tony what’s been disturbing his sleep. Opening one eye, he focuses on the television screen that’s illuminating the otherwise dark apartment. The flashes are torturous on his sensitive eyes so he pulls the pillow over his face and sighs.

 

“You’re still playing that?” Tony mumbles against the pillow.

 

Steve looks over his shoulder from where he’s sitting cross-legged on the floor.

 

“Can’t help it,” Steve grins, focusing back on the zombie he’s still trying to annihilate, “It’s addictive.”

 

Tony tosses the pillow aside and props himself up on his elbows. A tiny wave of anger flashes through him when he realizes that Steve has far surpassed his own high score.

 

“Funny thing, actually,” Tony begins, sarcastically, “you know what they also decided to invent after inventing addictive games?”

 

“What?” Steve asks without looking back.

 

“A save button,” Tony says, smiling when Steve actually laughs. “No wait, hang on, there’s more. Then, they went on to invent memory cards.”

 

“Okay, I get it,” Steve chuckles again, scrolling down the games menu to store his progress. “I totally needed that intervention.”

 

“Are you kidding me,” Tony lays back down with his hands behind his head, “You were a few seconds away from needing an exorcism.”

 

Steve rolls his eyes, clumsily getting to his feet. He picks up his half-finished can of beer and downs it before placing the empty can on Tony’s nightstand. Steve may have beaten Tony thoroughly in the video game department, but Tony had done a whole lot better than his guest when it came to drinking. So much so, that he’d past out for a good three hours.

 

As he thinks about it, he’s not so sure that it’s something he should be proud of. Especially not with the way his head was still spinning.

 

“Just come to bed, will you?” Tony said.

 

Steve eyes the empty space on the bed beside Tony. In the state that he’s in, it looks like the best decision he will make all night. It isn’t long before Steve is shrugging his pants off and kicking them into the mass with his t-shirt and jacket and the rest of Tony’s clothing.

 

Steve raises a confused brow when he hears the boy on the bed laughing lazily.

 

“What?” Steve grins, inspecting himself carefully.

 

“Stars and stripes,” Tony chuckles. “Are you serious?”

 

“I support my country,” Steve gropes his crotch with one hand and salutes with the other, not feeling the least bit self-conscious. “And my country supports me.”

 

They both laugh as Steve crawls over Tony, the undisturbed side of the bed looking plush and inviting Only, Tony doesn’t let him get far.

 

“Hello,” Tony grins, hands sliding onto Steve’s bare waist and hands clamping down firmly enough to keep him in pace.

 

Steve laughs, only halfheartedly squirming out of Tony’s grasp, but Tony doesn’t budge.

 

“Come on, Tony,” Steve fakes a frown, “I wanna sleep. Let me go.”

 

“Oh,” Tony feigns confusion, “I thought we were rehearsing scene eleven.”

 

“I wouldn’t be on top of you if we were,” Steve quips.

 

Tony’s smile becomes mischievous and before Steve can struggle against it, Tony flips them over and Steve lands on his back. Even with his arms pinned beside his head and Tony’s weight on his body, it would still be incredibly easy for Steve to wriggle free. Steve has not only height, but girth on Tony as well.

 

But he’s lazy and it’s amusing and Tony’s laughter is really contagious, so he fights against but doesn’t free himself from the body that’s restraining him.

 

 

Tony considers Steve; the boy’s hair a mess, bright blue eyes oozing the sort of delight that actually makes him start a little. The smile on Steve’s face is genuine, his cheeks flushed pink and  lips just as rosy.

 

Tony begins to wonder why the hell he’s looking at Steve’s lips anyway.

 

As Steve moves beneath him and the duvet twists around their barely clothed bodies, Tony becomes aware of a lot more things. Like the fact that their skin is touching, and he’s between Steve’s parted legs. And he can feel Steve against him. And as soon as that completely dawns on him, it’s as if Steve realizes the same thing. Because both of their laughter abruptly dies away.

 

Steve stops moving and Tony wishes he hadn’t because the second he does, an intense need to thrust against him takes over Tony.

 

That contact from before. The pace. The movement. The feeling. It’s mystifying to say the least. Why he wants it. Why he has to fight to move off of Steve.

 

When Tony does roll off, he lays flat on his stomach just as Steve moves to sit on the edge of the bed with his back to Tony.

 

A few awkward silent seconds pass until Tony finally clears his throat. Because his heart has stopped pounding and his cock has stopped testing the strain of his briefs. When had that even happened?

 

“You know, we probably should rehearse some time,” Tony actually succeeds in sounding calm. “I mean, it’s what I usually do with my co-stars. Helps with continuity.”  

 

“Yeah,” Steve nods, looking over his shoulder at Tony briefly. “That’s a good idea. We should.”

 

“It will help the flow of things,” Tony shrugs.

 

“Absolutely,” Steve sighs. “I really should head home.”

 

“I’ll call my driver,” Tony offers, this time in no mood to try and get Steve to stay.  

 

Because Tony has far too much confusion to sort through; an act that will be impossible while the object of said confusion is around.

 


	10. Chapter 10

He misses home.

 

His father.

 

Being so far away from familiarity is starting to overwhelm him.

 

He’s been moved from one hotel to another, one that Lee thinks is right for him. It’s like an upgrade from coach to a seat beside the pilot. Large and fully furnished. The hotel staff is tripping over themselves; overdoing everything they can to make Steve not have to lift a finger.

 

Then there’re the freebies. First Edition Nike shoes, custom made designer jackets. Cellphones and watches. All because he is Steve Rogers, Stan Lee’s shiny new toy.

 

A few weeks ago he was the nice young fellow who waited tables at the locally frequented deli in his small hometown. And now he’s suddenly worth more than a _thank you_ and a tip.

 

Staring at the script lying beside him on the bed, Steve is willing to do just about anything to drop all of this and go back home. The feeling only subsides when he thinks about the one thing that made him do this in the first place.

 

Picking up his new cellphone, Steve dials the number off by heart.

 

His hand is shaky as he runs it impatiently through his hair, locks falling back into place either way because even his new mousse overachieves. It’s a mystery to him where all the nerves are coming from because he’s called this number at least a thousand times. But as the other end begins to ring, knots twist in the pit of his belly.

 

“Rogers’s residents,” the familiar, motherly voice beams pleasantly, “How may I help you.”

 

“Yes, can I please speak to the incredibly sexy, Ms. Wanda,” Steve says in a voice as deep as he could fake.

 

Steve smiles as he hears Ms. Wanda laugh. It’s a tender high pitched laugh that makes her face brighten up entirely. He can picture her clearly in her hideous floral apron and pink slippers. Her white hair is probably bunched up in a bun that looks years from untangling and her freckled, wrinkly cheeks are surely just as oddly rosy as usual.

 

“My god, but you’re a tease,” she accuses, calming from her laughter. “How are you, my dear?”

 

Steve mulls the question over, wondering if the truth would make everything worse. Ms. Wanda freaks out whenever a wave of undesirable emotion crosses Steve’s face. Steve’s father is the only one who does a decent job of hiding pain from her, even though they all know he’s enduring the most of it. All the time.

 

“Steve?” Ms. Wanda enquires worriedly when he’s quiet for a second too long. Steve shakes his head as if she’s able to see him deny the wordless accusation.

 

“I’m great, ma’am,” Steve says, forcing a smile into his voice. “Can I speak to my dad?”

 

His next door neighbor pauses briefly before sighing. “And here I thought the call was for me.”

 

Steve grins, thankful that she decides to let his blatant slip pass for once.

 

“Just hearing your voice is enough,” Steve charms, “you know what they say about too much of a good thing.”

 

Ms. Wanda’s laughter makes his mood lighter once again. He hears it fade away and then hears Ms. Wanda call his father’s name. They exchange a few cheerful words that he can’t quite make out, and then there’s a little bit of a struggle on the other end of the line.

 

Eventually when his father does pick up the phone, he’s wondering if his call is too much of an inconvenience to even bother going through with it.

 

“Hey, Mr. Hollywood,” the grin is apparent in his dad’s voice, the usual carefree haze in his tone. “How’s it feel like being a celebrity?”

 

“I’m not famous, dad,” Steve rolls his eyes, placing his socked feet on the ground in front of him. It feels like sitting up will make him hear more clearly, and of late, he’s been hanging onto his father’s every word.

 

“That’s not what it looks like on the second page of People Magazine,” Joseph Rogers chuckles. “Tell me, is kissing boys part of the job or is it just a perk?”

 

Steve’s stomach heats up and his face flushes. He groans as his father laughs. “Don’t tell me you saw that.”

 

“Well according to the column, you were kissing quite a heart-throb.”

 

“I didn’t kiss him, dad,” Steve confesses, exasperatedly. “He kissed me. And it wasn’t even like that. It was just a gimmick.”

 

“Hmmm,” Joseph sounds skeptical. Then as if an after-thought, he adds, “Bucky wasn’t too pleased about it.”

 

“Bucky?” Steve stands abruptly. “You’ve been speaking to him?”

 

“He’s been stopping by,” his father confesses casually. “He needed my advice on the new ink he wants. It’s a good thing he came to me too because what he’d had in mind-” Steve’s farther makes a gagging sound that would’ve usually made Steve laugh were Joseph speaking about anyone other than James Bucky Barnes.

In the past, Bucky and Joseph were really good friends to the point of having more in common than Steve and Bucky did. And although to may annoyed Steve to some extent, there was always a deep warmth in knowing that both his parents adored his first boyfriend. His first love.

 

High school hadn’t been the easiest time for Steve, as socially challenged as he was and so finding Bucky was easily the epitome of his adolescence. James Bucky Barnes, the misunderstood bad boy down the street who everyone avoided and Joseph practically took in. Bucky who had a brilliants smile and could detail a vehicle even quicker than his father could. Bucky who gave Steve his first kiss weeks after Steve had already given him his heart.     

 

But after the accident, everything changed.

 

One unknowing turn around a bend brought them head-on with a driver who’d misconstrued right for left in his drunken stupor and Steve’s father’s reflexes hadn’t been quick enough to save them both. A DUI caused Steve to lose his mother and for Steve’s father to lose the use of his legs.

 

And Steve lost Bucky.

 

At first Steve thought Bucky was giving the family space after their Mother’s death. And then Bucky started acting distant with Steve as well. He was only around when he needed to let off his pent up sexual tension. And this was all at a time when fucking in the back seat of Bucky’s car was the last thing on Steve’s mind. So one day after Bucky picked Steve up from work in his black van which was just as tarnished and smoked just as much as the owner, Steve denied Bucky for the last time.

 

Bucky left him.

 

So what’s different now?

 

Nothing’s changed. The main reason Bucky left in the first place is still there. The main thing, the only thing that Steve and Bucky were constantly fighting about.

 

Steve still remembers the harsh things Bucky had said to him, with total disregard to what he was going through.

 

_You’ve changed._

_You’re only thinking about yourself._

_You never have time for me anymore._

_Baby, it’s not like it’s the end of the world._

Steve had cringed at that because sis mother was gone.

 

It did, indeed, feel like the end to him.

 “Anyway, he’s stayed around for dinner a coupla times. Watched a little teli, just the usual,” Joseph says cheerfully. “Hey, he’s here now Wanna speak to him. I’ll put him on.”

 

Steve’s frantic protests go unheard and a second later that same raspy, drop-dead, sexy voice floods his ear. “Hey, Wonder Boy.”

 

“Hi,” is all Steve can manage, his heart thumping in his chest simultaneously with the bile rising in his gut. But then there is also something else.

 

“I’ve been trying to call you,” Bucky almost purrs and Steve opens his mouth to inform Bucky that he hasn’t once changed his number in the hopes that Bucky would do just that - which is why Steve quickly shuts it. “But, you’re obviously busy.”

 

“Yeah,” he says before hitting the phone against his head and then immediately regretting it.

 

The knock on the door makes him jump.

 

“You know,” Bucky sounds like he’s blocking the mouthpiece to make sure no one on the other end of the line can hear what he has to say next, “I fucked up-”

 

Steve’s padding his socked feet to the door with caution.

 

“-big time. And I miss you. I’ve missed your dad too.” Bucky continues, voice lowering just as Steve opens the door. “I miss us,” Bucky.

 

As he stares into Tony’s bright brown eyes and at his even brighter smile, he only just remembers he’d asked the young star to come over. He looks over Tony, hair surprisingly perfect, like it usually does on television.

 

Tony’s face is also noticeably smoother, eyebrows darker and lips glossy. Or are they just wet? It doesn’t matter. Not when the white vest he’s wearing is clinging to his chest and the undoubtedly brand new dark jeans hang low around his waist. They are definitely brand new, Steve can practically smell that new store smell.

 

The _Tony_ that Steve has come to know over the past few days doesn’t give a damn about it being gelled and sparkly. Steve can’t decide which he likes better. Tony Stark or just plain Tony.

 

 

He looks at Tony’s uncovered arms that only have white arm bands around the wrists. And then Tony holds up the script and Steve snaps out of his trance. A trance that seems to be consuming him far too often of late, he frowns when he realizes that Bucky’s still rambling on in his ear.

 

Tony mouths the words, _is this a bad time_ and Steve shakes his head.

 

“Hey, listen,” Steve speaks as he waves his co-star inside. “I’m gonna have to call you back.”

 

“Is this a bad time?” Bucky asks and Steve can’t help but roll his eyes this time.

 

“Company, that’s all,” Steve shuts the door after Tony. “I swear I’ll call you back. Later.”

 

Steve hangs up the phone, grateful for having a slightly justifiable reason in doing so. He turns around to find Tony eyeing his new Xbox collection. Tony whistles low running his fingers across the titles.

 

“I think you’ve got more than me,” he says, picking one up and then flipping it over to read the back.

 

“Lee kinda just…” Steve shrugs with a sigh, tossing his phone on the bed. “Where’ve you been, I’ve been tryna get you for the past week.”

 

“I’ve been busy,” Tony confesses, “out of the country actually.”

 

“Of course you’ve been busy,” wants to kick himself for assuming anything less, “you’re Tony Stark.”

 

Steve’s grin suddenly falls away when Tony looks at him almost solemnly. Not solemn, annoyed, that’s what it is.

 

“That’s right,” Tony forces a smirk. “Keep reminding me, I just might forget.”

 

Steve inwardly kicks himself again. He has to stop doing that.

 

“What were you doing out of the country?” Steve asks, skillfully trying to change the subject.

 

Tony’s face lights up as he replaces the game in place and drops down onto Steve’s hotel bed.

 

“England,” Tony beams. “Had to sign some _Ironman_ merchandise at a music store and then dazzle at a press conference. I was gonna bring you back a shirt but I know how much you _love_ the show.”

 

“Yeah, right,” Steve rolls his eyes, shoving Tony’s white-shoed feet off the bed. “How did the conference go-”

 

 “God please, Steve. Wait until it airs on Entertainment Now like the rest of my fans” Tony fans himself dramatically and they both laugh. Then Tony puts a game face on before slapping his hands together. “I do believe that interviewing me about an interview is not the reason you’ve been trying to get hold of me.”

 

Steve smiles, letting out a breath as they both look towards their scripts.

 


	11. Chapter 11

“I will do whatever you want,” Tony frowns, “you know this. But the one thing I’m _not_ doing is leaving you. I don’t care what the hell you say.”

 

Steve’s eyes flicker, breath catching slightly in his throat. It’s so hard to keep his character going when the intensity of Tony’s acting always throws him off.

 

Steve begins to speak, it’s his cue to do so. But he’s interrupted by Tony’s lips over his.

 

Steve pretends to act shocked by it like the script demands, he even pushes on Tony’s shoulders. But before he can give in and allow it happen, Tony chuckles again.

 

Steve places his hands on his hips as Tony laughs it off.

 

They’ve been rehearsing just a few hours for days now, easily getting side-tracked when something in the script sparks up conversation. More times than not, they’ll end up leaving Steve’s hotel or Tony’s apartment to get a bite or catch a movie. Steve notices that Tony prefers to do it either when it’s too early for the town to be awake or so late that everyone is supposedly at night clubs.

 

Then there are the numerous times that Tony’s phone will ring, Hogan demanding Tony right away or Lee phoning either or both boys to ask them to meet him at the studio. As production day was growing closer, Steve and Tony seemed to be having less and less time to get ready for the much anticipated performance.

 

But today is different. All cellphones are off and appointments aside. They have gotten this far in the script, and Steve is determined to get through the entire thing at least once before the big day, but Tony isn’t making it easy.

 

“How many times are we actually going to have to do this?” Steve demands.

 

“I’m sorry,” Tony wipes a none-existent tear away. “It’s gonna take some getting used to.”

 

“Yeah well,” Steve raises a brow, “I’m beginning to think you’re just enjoying kissing me.”

 

Tony grins, crossing his arms over his chest looking every bit as challenging as Steve feels.

 

“You reckon?”

 

“I’m beginning to,” Steve scoffs.

 

“Let’s try this one more time,” Tony decides, rolling up his sleeves.

 

Steve gets ready, clearing his throat. He has the opening line in the scene and knows it by heart due to repetition. Instead, Steve’s taken off guard when Tony jumps right to the line proceeding the kiss.

 

“I will do whatever you want,” Tony’s voice is much deeper than before, “you know this. But the one thing I’m _not_ doing is leaving you. I don’t care what the hell you say.”

 

Steve feels his back hit the wall. And it’s only a few feet back, but unexpected nonetheless. Tony’s lips once again come over Steve’s for the fourth time that day.

 

Only, it’s different this time.

 

There’s nothing funny about it anymore. Tony is putting all of himself into what he’s doing. It’s no longer about him kissing another guy; it’s about Zane kissing the boy he’s travelled half way across the country for. The boy he loves. The boy he’s just found out is dying. This time it’s completely about Zane and Jake.

 

Tony feels his tongue slip between Steve’s lips and Steve moans.

 

Tony considers the sound as he pushes deeper still, tasting Steve, letting his tongue explore while Steve unintentionally accepts wholeheartedly.

 

Tony wondered if they’re still rehearsing.

 

Steve doesn’t want Tony to realize what he’s doing.

 

As Tony pushes his body harder against Steve’s, Steve snakes his arms around Tony, one hand snaking into Tony’s hair and the other pulling him closer around the waist.

 

This time it’s Tony who moans and as he feels his jeans tighten, he can’t remember to give a shit about what they’re doing. Or the fact that it’s Steve he’s doing it with. Though lust is fogging most of his judgment, he realizes he has never felt so instantly and insanely aroused in his life.

 

“This is not in the script,” Steve says breathlessly as Tony’s hot lips trail over the soft skin on his neck.

 

“Fuck the script,” Tony chuckles, moving away from tasting Steve’s flesh long enough to look him in the eye.

 

They hold each other’s gaze, hearts thumping and faces completely flushed.

 

Then Tony is yanking his shirt over his head as Steve spins them around pressing Tony into the wall. Their lips met again, this time, all hesitation cast aside. As if been taken over by a new wave of avid flame, all that Tony knows is that he wants this. He wants it so badly that he wastes no time unbuckling his own belt after removing Steve’s top.

 

Tony’s jeans dropped to the ground with a light thump and loud jingle. And Steve can’t decide whether he wants to push Tony away to enjoy the view or keep kissing him. He decides to enjoy the best of worlds, brazenly reaching between their two warm bodies and groping Tony too expertly for Tony to believe that it’s Steve’s first time doing this.

 

The rough growl that’s provoked from deep in Tony’s throat is enough to make Steve smile. Not a mocking smile at all, but an _I can’t believe I just did that_ smile. Then Tony smiles too, unable to keep his mouth moving, desperate to let out a few sharp gasps to gain his momentum. His breath hits Steve’s shoulder as Steve keeps pushing Tony. Tony shudders and shivers before pushing Steve’s unrelenting hand away and pulling on the string that’s keeping Steve’s shorts up.

 

Steve clings to Tony’s body when Tony suddenly takes control. His hips rocking and gyrating, causing immense friction in all the right places. Only the silkiness of Tony’s boxers and the tight cotton of Steve’s jocks between their bare groins.

 

Steve his leg between Tony’s thighs to coax his legs further apart and Tony can’t figure out where Steve’s hands had been before, because they feel far too good kneading his ass.

 

And that’s when it all falls apart.

 

Steve feels his tenacity slip and he’s immediately unlaced. Whatever it was that had been blocking out emotion or keeping it at precisely the right distance was completely wrecked now. His heart thumps dangerously hard, pumping fueled emotion into his system, through his veins. He squeezes his eyes shut, battling it one last time.

 

It was useless.

 

 “Tony,” Steve grits out, head falling on Tony’s shoulder. He’s close, way too close. The sound Tony makes is somewhere off in the distance. It’s a moan. A questioning moan that’s dragged out by a frayed breath. Steve hangs onto it.

 

“Tony,” Steve pleads, holding onto Tony’s hips to slow his movement. Lord knows he doesn’t want to, but he has to save himself before falling deeper. Deeper than he already has. Has he been keeping it in that well? “Tony, I’m falling for you.”

 

The words are almost a whisper.

 

Tony grins with a low half snort half chuckle as he continues to kiss Steve’s collarbone.

 

And then everything falls silent and Tony stopped moving altogether when the punchline to Steve’s joke doesn’t follow.

 

Tony looks up at Steve, face flushed as their breathing slowly calms in unison.

 

Steve is having a hell of a hard time holding Tony’s gaze, but still refuses to look away.

 

“This,” Steve can feel himself shake, his lips trembling mere fractions away from Tony’s. “This is more than just…. I don’t know Tony, just getting off. This… this isn’t a game to me. This means something to me. You mean something to me.”

 

Steve swears he can see the realization of his words sinking in. The silence is killing him, he needs Tony to respond.

 

It’s one of those moments, those perfect moments where he’s just blurted out the truth of his soul; now all that he has to do is lean in an inch, kiss the boy and all will live happily ever after.

 

Tony moves away just as Steve leans in.

 

Complete silence fills the room as Tony gets dressed. He stops twice, looks as though he is fully about to say something, but then decides against it.

 

Steve doesn’t move, doesn’t speak.

 

As Tony closes the door behind himself and emptiness fills the hotel room, the same feeling spreads throughout Steve’s chest.

 


	12. Chapter 12

He sits up when the phone rings again, waking him from a highly uncomfortable nap. The big bag of potato chips slides off his belly and falls to the ground, emptying most of the crumbed contents onto the carpet. He growls a chain of curses as the muffled shrill continues. After a few more rings, he grabs a hold of the cordless phone, digging it out from where it was firmly lodged between the brown couch seats.

 

Brock sits up, his feet firmly on the floor as he runs a tired hand over his unshaven jaw.

 

“Hello,” he says calmly. With the phone pinned between his shoulder and ear, Brock swiftly lights up a cigarette.

 

“I heard that you are the go-to-guy where photography is concerned.”

 

Brock grins, the female voice immediately shadowing any prior regrets of answering the phone.

 

“Depends what you’re looking for,” Brock shrugs unnecessarily, his voice thick with innuendo.

 

“There’s this kid,” she continues, her all business-tone making Brock lose his smirk. “He’s a rising star. He’s been rubbing shoulders with the best in the business-”

 

“Who is he?” Brock cuts in.

 

“His name is Steve Rogers.”

 

“Never heard of him,” Brock scoffs, fully prepared to hang up the phone.

 

“I assure you, this will be worth your while,” she continues calmly. “He’s about to be-”

 

“Listen, lady.” Brock stands, scratching a none-existent itch on his flat stomach. “ _About to be_ doesn’t mean a thing to me. I shoot celebrities. Not _has beens_ , or _might bes_ or _about to bes_.”

 

“He’s Tony Stark’s co-star.” She sighs, her confidence making Brock itch. Of course he will listen to her now.

 

“So what,” Brock raises a brow, “You want a few snaps of the kid. Why?”

 

“Well, if nobody else is hassling to take a few impromptu images of my client, I’ll just have to do it myself,” there’s a smile present in her voice. “He’s not exactly a live wire and if I’m going to get this kid famous he’s actually gotta be known.”

 

“And I suppose the money you rake in on account of  his fame has absolutely nothing to do with it.” Brock grins.

 

Her laugh is somewhat melodic with a cruel undertone. “If you can’t be a shady agent why not become paparazzi, right?”

 

Brock takes another long drag of his cigarette before ashing it into a discarded glass of water.

 

“So this kid is worth it?” Brock finally asks.

 

“Double if you get a few in with Tony.”

 

Brock nods in agreement. He knows she’s right; they will probably be worth triple if they are even slightly provocative.

 

Brock is the master of scandalous shots.

 

“I think you just got yourself a photographer,” Brock grins. “Mrs. ...”

 

“Just call me Sharon.” She says, oozing triumph.

 

*****

 

 

It’s been three nights, but it feels like much longer. Three days of silence, of the occasional awkward glance. Tony is sure everyone can tell. He’s been spending insane sleepless nights, convincing himself that everyone knows that there’s something wrong between him and Steve.

 

It started the second they saw each other again. The second Tony stepped into Lee’s office and his eyes locked with Steve’s. For only a second. And then Steve’s jaw clenched and he looked ahead of himself with stubborn determination. And it drove Tony crazy.

 

Tony isn’t sure what he wants from Steve. If he wants them to talk about what happened or just hopes they’ll just pretend it never happened. He tries to convince himself that it was nothing. It was a moment that got out of hand due to the initial kiss which was only brought on in the first place due to a line in the script. It would never have happened any other way, not without the script.

 

The first night was the hardest.

 

No matter what he did to try to distract himself, everything was still way too fresh in his head.

 

Steve’s words.

 

Steve had told Tony he was falling for him. That he liked him. That he wanted to be with him. Not in so many words, but it was known, by both boys. Steve had feelings for Tony.

 

The second night was torturous.

 

Steve and Tony had been spending most of their time together. They had a bond. They were friends. The kiss was just something else, it was good acting. It was dedication to the art of the business. It was so insanely hot that as Tony lay on his back that night, all he could think about was the stupid kiss. Steve’s lips, his hands. Steve’s body, smooth and hard against his own. Denial was pulling out all sorts of emotions that Tony was completely unaccustomed to.

 

And then he found himself nervous. Wondering if Steve was ever going to actually talk to him again. If they were still friends at all. He wondered if Steve had any goddamn right to even be angry with him.

 

The cold shoulder was annoying him, but he also realized he wasn’t making much of an effort to reconcile with the boy either. Mostly because he didn’t know what he would be apologizing for. So what, Steve has feelings for him. It didn’t mean he suddenly owed Steve anything. That he had to return the feelings.

 

Tony Stark managed to work himself up so much that night that the next morning, an incredibly bewildered Pepper got it handed to her when she merely mentioned the name, Steve.

 

Tony didn’t see Steve that day. They were in the same building on two occasions, they never crossed paths. Pepper picked up on this almost instantly. Mentioning it to Tony was completely out of the question. So when Tony pushed an extra load of weights and did more pull-ups than necessary, she decided to let him work off his anger the way he saw fit.

 

Tony regrets deciding to spend tonight with friends. All the girls keep asking Tony is if Steve has a girlfriend and if he’s as handsome in person as he is in the magazine and if he is a good kisser.  And Tony can’t stand every single thing being about Steve Rogers anymore. So he cuts the visit short and takes the drive home incredibly slowly.

 

At the last red light before his street, he finds his mind drifting once again. Maybe there is a reason he can’t get passed all of this. Maybe there is a reason he can’t stop thinking about Steve and the kiss. There has to be a reason why it hurts so much, those few times that Steve had looked at him over the past few days and he’d seen nothing but ice in those usually fiery blue eyes.

Tony sighs, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back. His heart has been beating uncharacteristically slower and faster of late. Jarvis said it was anxiety and that he must take it easy for a while. Tony has a tiny feeling that it just might be something else.

 

Accepting it was the hard part.

 

He can’t admit to it, that would merely confirm defeat. Tony Stark is in full control of his emotions. He always has been.

 

Until that kiss.

 

The car horn behind him blows and his eyes snap open, reminding him of where he is. He isn’t in Steve’s hotel room. He isn’t in Steve’s arms. He’s in his car, the air-conditioning hitting his face so hard that any heat that had risen to his cheeks with personal thoughts of Steve won’t successfully stain them red.

 

Tony puts the car into drive and bypasses his turn off. He can’t go home yet, not to the empty apartment. There’s only one person who’ll be more than willing to be in his company, even if it is to witness him fall apart. Pepper won’t mind even if he does show up unannounced. That’s what he loves about her. She will listen to him and tolerate his crap. He needs her more than ever right now.

 

Which is probably why as he knocks on the door, and it swings open seconds later, he’s wondering what the hell had swayed him to come to Steve instead.

 

Steve holds the door in place, a strange look crossing his face that tells Tony that Steve obviously thinks something really bad has to have happened for Tony to be on the other side of his door.

 

So Tony tries on a smile just to calm Steve.

 

It doesn’t work.

 

“Can I come in?” Tony asks carefully. He’s only slightly surprised when a reluctant Steve finally steps aside for him to enter.

 


	13. Chapter 13

Tony looks around himself, blankly taking note of his surroundings. Steve’s hotel bed is unmade, pillow still softly dented. The light from the television is the only thing illuminating the room.

 

Steve quickly remedies that by flicking the light switch on, eliminating all intimacy from the situation.

 

“It’s pretty late,” Steve says suggestively.

 

Tony only half cares for Steve’s standoffishness.

 

“I needed to talk to you,” Tony confesses, barely above a whisper.

 

“You could have called.”

 

“You wouldn’t have answered.”

 

A look crosses Steve’s face. One that tells Tony he’s right. He gives a knowing sad grin, toying with the notion of it being too late. Something else inside him refuses to accept defeat. If only he knew what he was fighting this time around.

 

“What do you want, Tony,” Steve finally says, consciously wrapping his arms around himself, looking rather naked in nothing but a pair of boxers.

 

Tony’s gaze is making it impossible for Steve to stare long enough into his eyes to try to read what was coming next.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Tony asks softly.

 

“It doesn’t make a difference,” Steve scoffs.

 

“It makes a big difference.”

 

“Oh forgive me,” Steve says, sarcasm dripping in his tone. “Forgive me for not knowing that Tony Stark likes kissing boys, just not the gay ones.”

 

Tony smiles softly again. He can tell it isn’t going to be easy, but he feels oddly numb enough to take Steve’s blows.

 

He was expecting it.

 

He looks down for a second, thinking everything through as Steve stares at his windswept hair. When Tony finally looks up again, Steve stubbornly looks away.

 

“That isn’t what I meant,” Tony defends himself in vain.

 

“Well what did you mean, Tony?” and then Steve lets out an exasperated sigh. “Do you know what, I don’t even care. I think it’s best we both just keep this professi-”

 

“I’m falling for you too, Steve,” Tony interrupts.

 

Steve doesn’t even skip a beat before he’s pointing an accusing finger at Tony’s

 

“No, don’t do that,” there’s a mixture of authority and worry in his voice now. “You’re not, Tony. You don’t know what you want. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

 

“Steve,” Tony takes a step closer to the blond boy who doesn’t bother backing away, the threat in his eyes should be enough to keep any smart man at bay.

 

“No, Tony,” Steve moves Tony’s hand away from his face, even though the light gesture clearly affects him. “You’re confused.”

 

“I was, Tony admits simply.”

 

“You don’t understand,” Tony can tell that Steve is trying to convince himself that Tony is delusional.

 

“I probably never will,” Tony says, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow.

 

“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

 

“When do I ever?” Tony whispers.

 

Steve’s eyes shoot to Tony’s and the intensity of the moment is glass-shattering.

 

He can’t do it. Steve just can’t do it. Not with the way Tony is looking at him. Eyes full of emotion and hope. Lips slightly quirked up into a tiny smile that is nowhere near any smile he’s ever seen on Tony’s face.

 

Tony’s cheeks are flushed pink, giving his emotions away like a first class mood ring.

 

Steve turns his back to Tony, taking a few calculated steps towards nothing in particular. When he stops, he lets out an unsteady breath when he feels Tony’s hands on his shoulders.

 

Tony’s shaking; Steve can feel it when Tony’s chest touches his back.

 

“What changed, Tony?” Steve asks, leaning back against the shorter boy’s hard frame.

 

Tony’s smile broadens when Steve turns just enough to look into his eyes.

 

“Absolutely nothing.” Tony replies.

And it’s true. Nothing in Tony has just. It’s just been awakened.

 

*****

 

“You were called too, huh,” Pepper grins at a very groggy looking Hogan.

 

Hogan locks his car before walking over to Pepper where she stands beside her Beamer. She’s way too fresh and smug for such an early hour that Hogan wonders if her stupid attempts to get him to join her for yoga are actually a good idea.

 

“I thought I was being thrown in on the deep end alone.” She continues, “Howard sounded really pissed on the phone.”

 

“Are you kidding me?” Hogan looks at the large, black French iron gates that prevent unauthorized entry into the Stark estate, “I couldn’t even get a word in. He was relentless.”

 

Neither of them are the least bit surprised when the gates automatically open before them. Both can almost feel Howard’s glare burning into them from somewhere off in the mansion.

 

“Ladies first”, Hogan mumbles, not daring to take a step before Pepper sighs and proceeds.

 

“What do you think it’s about this time?” Pepper asks as they walk up the immaculate driveway between lush gardens.

 

“You can’t seriously be asking that question,” Hogan scoffs, “what is it always about.”

 

“Well, all he said to me was that I better be at the house at seven o’clock sharp”, Pepper shrugs. “That serious matters had to be discussed and things are going to change. That man really ticks me off, Hogan. His son is most certainly not a _serious matter_ , he’s his child.”

 

“I don’t see why Tony doesn’t just take his old mans’ advice,” Hogan frowns, “it would make things a lot easier on him. In fact, on all of us.”

 

“Because Tony is as strong and as stubborn as the man who raised him.”

 

“I’m a shoe-in for employee of the month.”

 

“Why don’t _you_ speak to Howard, Happy,” Pepper ignores his joke, “from what I recal, once upon a time, the two of you were best friends before you were bound by the strict employee employer relationship.”

 

 

“That was a long time ago, my dear,” Hogan states calmly, “back when the man still knew how to laugh. There is no way he is going to listen to my advice. Especially not where Tony is concerned.”

 

“You say that as is if you actually know how to laugh yourself,” Pepper quips.

 

“Give me something worth laughing at and I just might grace you with the honor of hearing me express my amusement.”

 

Pepper rolls her eyes, hardly believing it.

 

The two are let in by one of the maids who has undoubtedly already received instructions to lead them to the second floor study.

 

As Pepper and Hogan enter, they’re immediately greeted by a sturdy look from the man behind the office desk. He watches them above the brim of his spectacles, not caring much for their hesitance.

 

Hogan pulls out one of the chairs for Pepper before sitting down beside her. Silence drags on for a moment before Hogan decides it’s gone on for long enough.

 

“You wanted to see us Howard.”

 

“Do you know what’s really working my last nerve?” Howard asks, eyes cast down at the magazine splayed out in front of him.

 

There’re several magazines, but only one is open. Pepper dares a glance over at the page on display and then immediately wishes she hadn’t.

 

“The fact that your son is all over magazines kissing a boy who happens to be his co-star in a gay movie that you are thoroughly against him having any part of,” Pepper says with pause.

 

Hogan clears his throat, a completely obvious yet subtle warning that she is seconds away from getting them both fired.

 

“That’s right,” Howard agrees simply, shocking them both. The calm in Howard’s voice is unsettling.

 

“Howard,” Hogan begins, “the thing is-”

 

“I don’t need an explanation from you, Hogan,” Howard cuts in. “Apart from not being around when what happened at the Premiere happened, you’ve done nothing but support my views. Pepper on the other hand-”

 

“Howard, Tony was going to do it regardless of what I said,” Pepper reasons. “Besides, I never once encouraged it, I just-”

 

“I need no explanation from you either,” Howard shrugs steadily. “I did not intend for this meeting to be long.”

 

Pepper sits back, a tiny defeated sigh escaping her lips.

 

“You both however have a chance to right some wrongs,” Howard continues. “It has become clear to me that Tony is doing this to settle his own personal childish vendetta that he has with me. I don’t find it amusing at all. I feel he needs to be monitored… closely. He needs to be stopped before he continues to do bullshit like this and completely fuck up all I’ve built for him.”

 

Hogan and Pepper don’t know what to do with the magazine that’s shoved in their direction across the table.

 

Hogan purposely refuses to look at it. Tony and Steve, lips locked in front of the world.

 

“You two need to watch him.”

 

“Are you serious?” Maria speaks from the doorway, grabbing everyone’s attention. Her arms are crossed over her chest and she’s leaning on the doorframe, a mocking smile on her face. “Are you hearing yourself, Howie? You want them to babysit your grown-up son. Apart from it not being their job, Tony isn’t a baby anymore. Maybe,” she says, entering further into the room, “maybe we should let him make his own choices. His own mistakes. As much as we hate this, it is his decision in the end.”

 

Howard hasn’t yet looked at his wife. Not once the entire time she spoke. The vein bulging on Howard’s forehead is akin to the timer on a bomb. Pepper finds herself holding her breath.

 

“So you know what’s expected of you?” Howard says, like Maria is not even there. “No more mishaps.”

 

Hogan nods as does Pepper. Usually they would have debated, but something about Howard’s demeanor today makes them both choose against it.

 

“Now will you please excuse me,” Howard says, “I need to have a word with my wife.”

 

Even with the door shut and a few paces down the corridor, Hogan and Pepper can still hear the heated argument going on between Mr. And Mrs. Stark.

 

“That boy has no idea how much shit he’s causing all of us,” Hogan frowns, quickening his pace down the hallway and to the staircase.

 

Pepper sighs, feeling her mood sink as she takes in just how much shit all of them are causing Tony.

 


	14. Chapter 14

As Tony begins to stir, Steve froze.

 

Once the boy is awake, everything will become real again.

 

He’s been so lost in just watching Tony’s peaceful form. The way his back moves as he breathes softly. The way his hair is all over the place, over his pillow. His long dark lashes are still and his pink lips are fuller. Lips that had been over his just last night.

 

Steve remembers how light kisses had led to deeper excitement. He’d taken note of Tony’s hesitance to just let go. As if he was trying to wrap his mind around it all. He’d noticed that every time he pulled back and tried to move slower, Tony would take control. Then when he began to lose self-discipline, Tony seemed to withdraw. Only slightly, but noticeably.

 

The kissing was great; Steve wouldn’t begin to deny that. But the affection was way better. The way Tony had literally just laid in his arms. Steve under the covers and Tony on top. The bridge keeping a level of innocence between them.

 

Then Tony had fallen asleep like that, still in his jeans and jacket. And Steve had smiled, wondering if the emotional strain of everything was the cause of Tony drifting off  mid-sentence.

 

But that was all the night before. And Steve knows Tony well enough to know that the boy is severely unpredictable.

 

How will he react, what will he do? How will he handle waking up in Steve’s bed?

 

A deep sigh escapes Tony as his eyes flutter open. Instinctively, Steve puts distance between them, only to be pulled right back.

 

“Remind me to never sleep in denim again,” Tony grins as he snuggles up against an incredibly baffled Steve.

 

Tony’s acting completely casual. A little too casual considering the situation. But then Steve begins to confuse himself because it’s exactly what he’d wanted. For Tony not to freak out. For Tony not to go back on what he’d said last night.

 

“You sort of passed out” Steve says carefully, “It seemed cruel to wake you.”

 

Tony looks thoughtful for a second before smiling and shutting his eyes. “And stripping me never came to mind?”

 

Steve laughs, not caring the least bit about the blush that tints his cheeks. Mainly because that thought had, in fact, crossed his mind more times than once.

 

He doesn’t have a come-back to that one. None that won’t be akin to a cheesy line in a porno flick that is. So as his laughter dies away and an odd silence fills the room, Steve finds himself dwelling on less amusing topics. Issues that have to be smoothened out if he’s ever going to have peace of mind.

 

“Tony?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“What does all this mean?”

 

Tony opens his eyes, brows furrowing a little. Their eyes lock for a moment before Tony’s sitting up and Steve’s regretting asking that damn question.

 

Tony pulls himself up until his back is against the headboard. He crosses his arms over his chest and crosses his legs at the ankles.

 

“I don’t know,” Tony finally says. “Does it need a definition?”

 

“Probably not,” Steve sighs, sitting up as well. “I guess I just wanna know what you’re thinking.”

 

Steve hears Tony chuckle and then watches as he shrugs out of his jacket, revealing a black, heavy metal t-shirt.

 

“I’m confused about a lot of things Steve,” Tony begins. “I have so many unanswered questions of my own. But, I like the clarity I have with you. It’s probably the only clarity I’ve got right now.”

 

Steve feels his pulse quicken from the look Tony’s giving him. Why the hell is he so afraid to believe Tony? Is it for his own reasons? Is it because the boy who has just said those words to him was Tony Stark? _The Tony Stark_. The celebrity, the idol. And in all honesty, he is still only Steve Rogers.

 

“Steve,” Tony raises both brows, concern filling his brown eyes. Steve realizes he’s probably given himself away. “Why don’t we do this? Why don’t we just pretend that I’m not Tony Stark? Pretend there’s no upcoming movie and no fans. No parents, no tabloids. And just see where we end up.”

 

“Wouldn’t that just be acting?”

 

“Yeah,” Tony shrugs, “but, it’s with a cast of two who know it’s real.”

 

Steve had thought a smile was miles away, especially with the subject being so sensitive. But as Tony’s words sink in, he can’t help but grin sheepishly. Tony mirrors him, a look of satisfaction on his face.

 

Not even the knock on the door can remove either boys’ smile, though the intrusion is slightly annoying.

 

“Probably management,” Steve says, moving out of the bed. Tony grabs his wrist to stop him.

 

“I’ve got it, don’t worry.”

 

Steve is grateful, though he still slips into the bathroom as Tony makes his way to the door.

 

It isn’t clear who’s more shocked to see who. Tony raises a brow and Pepper takes an exasperated sigh of relief while Hogan’s frown just deepens.

 

“It’s okay,” Pepper comforts whoever is on the other end of her cellphone, “We found him.”

 

“Was it a manhunt?” Tony smirks.

 

“Where is your phone?” Hogan scowls, barging into the hotel room.

 

“Must’ve left it in car,” Tony shrugs, looking from Pepper who’s still trying to calm someone down to an irritated Hogan. “What’s wrong?”

 

“None of your friends knew where you were. You weren’t at home,” Hogan really does seem angry. “And you weren’t answering your phone. Do you have any idea how worried Pepper was?”

 

“Hogan,” Tony stares at the ceiling and pinches the bridge of his nose, “not so early in the morning. Please.”

 

“Tony,” Hogan begins, a little calmer, “your father-”

 

“Sent you and Pepper to check up on me,” Tony shakes his head with a sarcastic smile. “Really, Hogan, when is he just gonna give this up?”

 

“When you start making the right decisions.”

 

“As long as they constitute as right in his books,” Tony quips.

 

“Tony,” Pepper finally joins the conversation as she slips her phone into her pocket. “I know how this must feel. I know you’re angry with all of us, but let’s just try to make the best of this. We can all just hang out for a while, we report to your father that you’re keeping out of trouble and then all is well.”

 

“I already have plans with Steve,” Tony shrugs, “hence why I’m here.”

 

“Steve can join us.”

 

“What?” Hogan glares daggers at Pepper.

 

“Is something wrong?” Steve asks softly as he exits the bathroom. He’s wearing a pair of jorts and a t-shirt and Tony is actually relieved his at least dressed.

 

“My father sent me an entourage,” Tony informs spitefully.

 

“We were all about to head over to Hogan’s,” Pepper says quickly, paying no attention to Tony’s annoyance, Hogan’s shock or Steve’s confusion. “It would be great if you could join us.”

 

There was no question in Pepper’s tone and all three men seem to know better than to argue with her.

 

*****

 

Once again, Hogan peers out of the kitchen window, overlooking his large pool area.

 

The lights in the clear blue water give it a crystal effect, especially on nights like this.

 

He’s exhausted, bones subtly aching, but mainly just exhausted by Tony Stark.

 

The entire day has been an event and Hogan knows that the only reason Tony is having them run up and down is in the hopes that they’ll give up and leave him alone.

 

Hogan’s not about to give in that easily. Especially not with a fiery Howard on his tail.

 

And regardless of all his inward tantrums, he still feels it better that Tony drive him insane under his watchful eye than reading about what Tony’s broken in the Tabloids the next day.

 

Hogan takes a slow sip of his red wine, wondering what the two boys are talking about.

 

Tony’s in the water, a cyan glow tinting his skin. The smug look on his face as he speaks makes Hogan know that he is undoubtedly taunting the boy on the opposite side of the pool.

 

Hogan turns his attention to Steve who was perched on the ledge as if he wants to get in but is concerned that the chlorine might eat away at his skin.

 

“I just got off the phone with Howard,” Pepper says, returning to the kitchen.

 

“Ah, Howard,” Hogan says simply with mock fondness. He is, however, grateful that Pepper has also taken it upon herself to slip _Kenny Rogers_ into his stereo in the lounge. It successfully removes all the distorted chanting rock music that Tony had been blasting all through dinner.

 

“When is this gonna end?” Pepper drops down dramatically at the kitchen table, laying her head to rest in her arms. Hogan muses at how her sprawled out blond locks just barely miss the saucy plate of spaghetti bolognaise remains.

 

He remembers the ruckus in the kitchen from when all four of them battled for control over just how much mince should be added or garlic was needed. He remembers the ten minute debate on how bolognaise was not bolognaise without anchovies. Then there was also the short bustle to get mozzarella cheese away from Tony, one which he was still glad he won. Because, all in all, dinner turned out great.

 

Hogan almost lets himself grin in thought.

 

“What I need is Anti-Stark medication,” Pepper says with a fond smile, propping her head on her hands and her elbows on the table.

 

“Know what?” Hogan begins, “If Tony-”

 

“Please,” Pepper snaps, “no more _Tony_. Just not now. Let’s just, relax.”

 

As she speaks, she sits back in the chair and reaches for her glass of the best dry red wine she’s ever tasted. She wants to compliment Hogan on his fine sense of cuisine, but takes into account that he may likely misconstrue it as an insult.

 

“Oh, God,” Pepper smiles, “I love this song.”

 

Hogan raises a brow when Pepper stands. Her imaginary dance partner mustbe quite a charmer because she certainly looks like she’s enjoying herself as she sings softly along with Mr. Rogers.

 

Pepper shrugs at Hogan, not caring at all for the perplexed look on his face. She shuts her eyes, willing oblivion to merely take over her for a second. Or at least for the duration of the song that she grew up listening to. The one that reminded her of home and her father. The moment that blocked out the complicated jumble her life had become. She’s so deep in that when Hogan’s arm circle her waist, she doesn’t flinch.

 

Pepper opens her eyes when she feels Hogan brush a stray hair out of her face.

 

They begin to move perfectly to the music.

 

“ _Hold your warm and tender body, next to mine_ ,” Pepper laughs when Hogan decides to assist Kenny Rogers with his lines. It isn’t a mocking laugh and Hogan doesn’t take it as such. The low chuckle that comes from Hogan, however, still does shock her.

 

Pepper’s pleased when Hogan continues singing, tiny grin still in place.

 

“ _And make believe you love me, one more time_ ,” Pepper watches his lips move, “ _for the good times_.”

 

The song could have stopped. Neither could really tell because all else fades away when their lips touch.

 

*****

 

 

Steve stands quickly; dodging Tony’s wet shorts as they fly passed him. He laughs, eyeing Tony from across the partially motionless azure mat.

 

“You’ve got no more excuses, Mr. Rogers,” Tony sprawls his arms out on the ledge of the swimming pool. “I didn’t bring my swim trunks either, but I made a plan. Now get with it.”

 

Steve looks deep in thought for a second. Only for a second, before taking one last glance over his shoulder to the only window emitting light, and then back into the challenging eyes of Tony Stark.

 

He pulls at the string of his jogging shorts and they instantly sagged low on his hips. The shorts have grass stains on them and he knows he’ll be slightly bruised up in the morning. He can’t be the only one who thinks that the football match against Tony and Hogan with Pepper as a partner was terribly unfair. Even if it had been friendly game.

 

Steve grins, plotting revenge in his head. His sole target being Tony, since he had the one appointing teams.

 

Steve’s shorts drop to the ground and he steps out of them, dark boxer briefs fitting him like a second skin.

 

Tony feels an exciting sort of nervous heat pool in the pit of his stomach.

 

This is certainly more enthralling than stealing innocent looks at each other during the day. Even better than the occasional inappropriate groping during their earlier football match.

 

Tony swallows, smile wavering slightly.

 

Steve eases into the water  gracefully. With the grace of a crocodile slithering in to stalk its prey.

 

“That’s more like it.” Tony says, as Steve crosses the water, closing the distance between them.

The water covers a little more of Tony’s chest than it does Steve’s. It’s just the right temperature, tiles smooth and clean under bare feet.

 

“I gotta be at Mr. Lee’s early tomorrow,” Steve says, touching Tony’s chest gingerly. He realizes he’s being careful about everything with Tony. He wonders if he can just let go for a while.

 

“So?” Tony sighs, wanting Steve to continue. Continue speaking, continue running his hands over the subtle muscle in his outstretched arms, he doesn’t care. Just as long as Steve doesn’t stop.

 

“So,” Steve closes the distance between their bodies entirely, resting his head on Tony’s shoulder while nipping his neck. “I wanna go to bed now.”

 

“Jesus,” Tony half chuckles, half groans when Steve rubs a little harder against him, teeth fascinating tighter. But smartly, not hard enough to leave a mark. “I thought it was only woman who get frisky after a little wine.”

 

Tony laughs at the glare that Steve shoots at him.

 

“Bed, Tony,” Steve whispers firmly, and Tony can’t help the shudder that ripples through him. Steve’s words, Steve’s actions, Steve’s intentions all rushing straight to his cock. He wonders if the two of them can make it to Hogan’s spare room without being noticed.

 

“Okay,” Tony nods. Steve exhales into the soft kiss that’s placed on his lips before they both move to get out of the water.

 

*****

 

And there it is.

 

The million dollar shot.

 

Even better - million dollar sequence of shots.

 

He’s been dozing on and off all day waiting for just such a moment and it’s finally –practically- handed to him.

 

All day it’s been dull.

 

Nothing provocative. Nothing exciting.

 

He had already pictured what the column beside his photographs would read:

_Thoroughly unknown boy, Steve Rogers was seen playing a friendly game of football in the yard of Tony Stark’s Agent._

 

No doubt the only thing people would find interesting in that column is the name ‘Tony Stark’.

 

On more than one occasion he’d wanted to give up, wondering if it was really worth waiting for. Wondering if the spot he’d chosen to park in was overlooked the wrong side of Tony’s agent’s house. He knew he had the right address; Sharon had called ample times to clarify. But he’d chosen that spot since it was the only place one could look down into the yard and still have ample camouflage.

 

And now, all of his waiting is about to pay off.

 

Brock jumps back into his rusted, black convertible, mouthwatering from the invaluable photographs of gold he has to deliver to Sharon.

 


	15. Chapter 15

Tony grits his teeth, his nostrils flaring. He’s breathing heavily, doing everything he can not to moan. He wouldn’t want to wake Hogan or Pepper for that matter, not really caring that they’d seen neither on their hurried way up to one of Hogan’s spare rooms.

 

He will attempt to make sense of everything later. Maybe later when he isn’t worshiping every single slight effort Steve is making.

 

Steve’s mouth is warm, tongue unbelievable. Teeth just enough.

 

Steve’s hands are skillful, dominant and completely overwhelming.

 

Tony’s eyes roll back as Steve bobs mercilessly up and down his shaft, leaving him to clutch at sheets. Only because if he touches Steve’s hair he’s sure he’ll get a fair amount of strands out.

 

Tony couldn’t have withheld the next moan, writhing beneath the larger boy when the pleasure escalates just a tad more than he’d expected.

 

“Oh God,” Tony moans breathlessly when Steve moves lower, his sweaty palms finally snaking into Steve’s partially damp hair.

 

Steve releases Tony from between his lips, taking in the musky male taste as he moves up Tony’s body. Slowly and incredibly torturously.

 

Tony counts the seconds until their lips collide.

 

Feverishly, Tony lets his body get taken over by the insanely new sensation.

 

Tony Stark is no virgin. But he certainly feels virgin to this.

 

He isn’t sure if it feels more erotic because it’s wrong or it’s wrong because it feels entirely too erotic.

 

He tries to move his arms and then realizes that he’s pinned.

 

He knows he can’t get free even if he wanted to and surrendering to Steve just seems so exhilarating.

 

Tony knows he’s doing way too much thinking. Even while he’s doing his best to block out scornful looks from his father and judging looks from his friends. He’s trying to block all of them out completely; yet making the effort still brings them up nonetheless.

 

But he isn’t going to stop. He isn’t about to make Steve stop. Not when for the first time in his life, the person he’s doing _it_ with, means worlds more than what he’s actually doing.

 

It’s Steve who’s making him feel this way.

 

The more he dwells on it, the more the beads of sweat stain Hogan’s pillow cases. Hogan’s sheets.

 

When Steve finally crunches his knuckles into the mattress on either side of Tony’s waist, Tony wastes no time touching anywhere and every inch he can of Steve’s body.

 

He skims his hands over Steve’s muscled torso and then his strong back, trying to move calmly as Steve grinds his hips against him.

 

It all feels wrong.

 

It all feels perfect.

 

It all feels way too much.

 

Steve’s hand falls between their bodies and Tony holds his breath.

 

As Tony releases over Steve’s hand and over his own stomach, all he can think about is the distorted perfection of it all. The dangerous pleasure. The insane normality.

 

He heats up to heights unknown, instantly cooling seconds later in that familiar state of being taken over.

 

Only this…. this is different.

 

Tony breaths heavily, and as he opens his eyes the gentle light that the partially opened curtains are offering is just enough for Tony to see Steve’s head roll back. Eyes shut and brows furrowed, mouth agape in rough gasp as he finds his own release.

 

Tony muses at the beauty as he rubs Steve’s shaky thighs. He only wishes it was his hand that could be held accountable for bringing Steve over the edge, but he knows there’s always next time. He knows there’ll be many more next times.

 

“We gotta clean you up,” Steve finally grins, breathing still labored.

 

Tony doesn’t like the sudden loss of weight over him when Steve moves off to slip into the bathroom. Minutes later when Steve decides he’s done a decent enough job of burning the evidence and the two boys tangle themselves together under the covers, Tony is content for the first time in ages.

 

*****

 

Stan Lee rubs his hands over his face, both coming to rest over his mouth with his elbows propped up on his office table.

 

Of all his years in the industry, he’s won countless awards. Oscars and Emmy’s. He’s made speech after speech. He’s talked celebrities into stepping out of their comfort zones over and over again,

 

But he finally finds himself speechless.

 

Unreservedly. Speechless.

 

“So are you ready to make an offer?” Brock speaks with fake authority.

 

Stan almost laughs, he can see right through the man in front of him. He can smell his trepidation, hell; he can see the bastard shake.

 

Although, right then, Stan feels like doing the man in and hiding the cadaver, he’s more concerned about what Howard is thinking. Howard Stark, standing motionlessly at the window, his back towards the room. Stiff shoulders and reddened neck, head slightly lowered.

 

Stan thinks it wise to get rid of the photographer before Howard’s shock wears off and something else takes over.

 

“Before we proceed,” Lee finally speaks, “I want to know who your tip-off was.”

 

“I’m afraid I can’t give that –”

 

Stan sighs as he halfheartedly goes to Brock’s rescue. He’s grateful when he sees it’s only Brock’s collar in Howard’s hand and not his neck.

 

“Okay,” Brock pushes away from Howard, stumbling back slightly. “It was Steve Rogers’s agent… Sharon….I dunno, Sharon something.”

 

 _‘Carter’_ , Lee concludes in his head. His blood instantly boils at the thought, betrayal at its finest.

 

“Hope to be hearing from you soon,” Brock makes an awkward escape for the door, “There’s only so long that I can hold onto the copies before the tabloids get them.”

 

“Pleased with yourself?” Howard mumbles, the second the door is closed and they’re alone.

 

“Howard,” Lee begins, “you can’t seriously be bla-”

 

“Save it,” Howard raises a hand. “What I want you to do is get Sharon Carter, see to it that her license is ripped from her and she never works in this city again. I’ll deal with the rest.”

 

Stan doesn’t bother arguing with the man. He goes back to his table, sits back and folds his arms as Howard bitterly shoves the photographs back into the envelope they came in.

 

The soft knock on the door goes unnoticed by both men, but neither is surprised when Pepper and Hogan walk in.

 

“Good morning,” Pepper says cheerfully, completely unaware of the conflagration she and Hogan have just stepped into.

 

If at all possible, Howard’s anger rises.

 

Howard pulls a photo from the docket, not caring which one it was. They’re all equally clear. Equally disturbing enough.

 

He happens to pick out the one where his son is accepting a kiss from another boy in a swimming pool. He doesn’t look at it though. Instead, he holds it up inches away from Hogan’s face.

 

“Whose house is that?” Howard enquires.

 

“Mine,” Hogan answers simply, clenching his jaw at the image.

 

Hogan’s equally as shocked as Pepper. Maybe even more. But he isn’t making it as clear as Pepper is with her hand over her mouth and her eyes going wide.

 

“And what’s happening in this picture?” Howard continues as if he is preaching to a second grader.

 

Hogan’s eyes shot to Howard’s, the two staring each other down with equal determination.

It’s obvious that Hogan’s not going to reply this time.

 

“And where the fuck were you when this was happening,” Howard’s voice rises considerably.

 

Pepper quickly steps between the two men when Howard takes a dangerous step towards Hogan.

 

“He was with me,” Pepper admits.

 

She doesn’t regret stealing the attention away from Hogan for that second, even though the look Howard gives her is enough to open the gates of hell and drag her down.

 

“Oh,” Howard finally says, shoving the photo back into the envelope, “I had no idea I was paying you two to fuck on the job.”

 

Howard Stark shakes his head, walking past both of them, but making sure to bump Hogan deliberately on his way out.

 

“You’re both fired,” he confirms before closing the door with a look of pure disgust on his face, “Have a good day.”

 

*****

 

“Where is everyone?” Tony asks with a yawn as he enters the kitchen.

 

“Hogan and Pepper left for Lee’s office this morning,” Steve gets another bowl out of the cupboard and proceeds to pour a considerable amount of Captain Crunch in them both. He honestly can’t picture Hogan eating such cereal in the mornings and so presumes Hogan must’ve purchased it for such Tony-related emergencies.

 

“I thought _you_ were supposed to see him,” Tony raises a brow, sitting at the kitchen table.

 

“He postponed last minute,” Steve shrugs, pouring milk into both bowls before sliding one over to Tony.

 

Tony looks down at the cereal in front of him.

 

“What?” Steve asks, half wondering if he’s done something wrong. Half trying to remember if Tony had ever mentioned anything about being lactose intolerant.

 

Then Tony looks up at him, grin broadening.

 

“Nothing,” Tony smiles. “Thanks.”

 

If little gestures like pouring cereal was going to evoke a smile like that out of Tony, Steve decides right then that he’ll do stuff like that more often. Or as often as possible. He blushes sheepishly as he takes the chair across from Tony.

 

Tony picks up on this, watching Steve intently. He isn’t sure how to place exactly what he’s feeling, but he likes it. It’s a capricious sort of feeling. He knows Steve really likes him. That Steve wants him. He knows the affect he has on Steve.

 

He wonders if it’s as strong an affect as the one that Steve has on him.

 

“Last night,” Steve’s eyes snap to Tony’s for the first time since sitting. Tony’s pleased and so he continues. “You left me last night.”

 

“I had to,” Steve states. “I went to the other spare room. It would’ve been kinda weird if Hogan or Pepper found us in the same bed when there are half a dozen other ones in the house.”

 

“One of us is gonna have to be the brains in this relationship,” Tony chuckles, “evidently, the smart money is not on me.”

 

Steve is only half listening to Tony, not bothering to laugh with him. He’s still hung up on the single word Tony had blurted obliviously.

 

_Relationship._

 

Steve smiles thinking about it.

 

That is more or less what they have, a relationship. A friendship that turned into something more. An affair. An insanely awesome physical relationship, Steve thinks back to the previous night. The image of Tony panting and losing control is enough to illicit some stirring in his pants. The look that crossed Tony’s face when he came undone, the sweat, the sighs. The way he licked his bottom lip, hard stomach bathed in a coat of his own –

 

“Steve.”

 

Steve watches Tony get up, wondering if Tony had been reading his thoughts.

 

He wonders what Tony would think if he knew Steve was still reminiscing the night before. Picturing him naked.

 

“Let’s get out of here,” Tony grins down at Steve before placing a kiss on his forehead.

 

“Where are we going?” Steve asks, quickly gulping down his cereal while wondering how Tony had pulled a disappearing act with his own.

 

“On our first date, so make yourself pretty.”

 

Tony can’t help but laugh at the completely perplexed look on Steve’s face.

 

“Come on,” he smiles, grabbing Steve’s hand and leading him out of Hogan’s kitchen.


	16. Chapter 16

To say the place is busy would be an understatement.

 

Walking from stall to stall is one thing, but keeping idle proves to be even worse. It’s like fighting a current, swarms of eager bargain shoppers hurriedly passing left and right. None of who seem to understand the concept of personal space. The hotdog stand a few feet away holds way more importance than a little human decency. As do the charm bracelets and mood rings a few stands ahead.

 

Steve steps closer to Tony, only barely dodging being run down by a burly man with a screaming infant in his arms.

 

“Ready to move on?” Steve asks, looking around himself.

 

They’ve been doing this all morning, admiring random craft displays in the busy flee market. Tony has purchased two engraved dog tags that are intricately hand-made and he’s even talked Steve into joining him in a round of questionable falafels that tasted worlds better than they looked. But frankly, Steve is more than ready to go somewhere much quieter.

 

Somewhere where human beings actually considered the fact that stepping on another man’s foot might cause the guy a degree of pain.

 

“Two more seconds,” Tony mumbles.

 

For the first time in a while, Steve looks up at Tony, vaguely noticing him digging in his pockets.

 

There’re many perks that come with fame, Steve now knows this first hand. But he’s never bothered taking into account a few other things. A few essential things. The things he started realizing after spending time with Tony Stark. Like the fact that wherever they go, Tony is always hiding behind huge dark frames, under a football cap and inside a hoodie, despite the weather.

 

And it doesn’t even ever work entirely.

 

There’re still ample knowing stares and some random approaches from the braver fans who can’t resist asking for an autograph or the chance to take a photo with or of the star. If it’s been exhausting for Steven just watching it happen, he wonders if Tony’s harboring real hatred towards it under his trademark smile as he briefly poses for yet more clicks and flashes. He wonders if Tony thinks all the intrusion is actually worth all the fame.

 

He wonders if Tony Stark ever wishes that he could be just a Steve.

 

But the thought leaves him when he notices the smile on Tony’s face, Tony’s intense absorption in what he’s observing.

 

Tony tosses every last loose note from his pocket into the hat that’s placed on the ground beside the musician.

 

The guitarist gives Tony an unmistakably knowing grin as he keeps playing the acoustic version of a Coldplay song that Steve knows, but can’t pin.

 

And it’s sort of really lovely to observe. Tony’s eyes sparkling, looking thoroughly content just being there.

 

“You really like this, don’t you?” Steve finally smiles, relishing in the smile he gets back.

 

“No amount of money can buy that kind of talent,” Tony says, unable to look away too long from the skillful movements of the guitarist’s fingers.

 

And for the first time since meeting the arrogant and occasionally ‘assholelic’ boy, Steve picks up on something he never saw before. And Steve is  taken aback.

 

“Why didn’t you ever learn how to play?” Steve askes carefully, never having thought that envy was an emotion that someone like Tony could experience so intensely.  

 

“I wanted to,” Tony chuckles. “For the longest time. But time and work. There was never really any time.”

 

“I can teach you,” Steve grins sheepishly.

 

He’s shocked that he feels slightly disappointed when Tony tugs him a little, summoning their continuation down the busy pavement.

 

“You can play the guitar?” Tony beams and Steve feels  pitiful for feeling so awesome by the fact that Tony’s genuinely impressed by what he could do.

 

“My dad,” Steve begins, “he’s, like, this extreme biker type. Used to play in two rock bands, blazed green, has fierce tattoos. He wanted to name me Harley, for God’s sake.”

 

Tony laughs hard.

 

“I’m not even kidding, Tony,” Steve chuckles, “Thankfully my mom wouldn’t have it, so she said they needed to reach some sort of compromise.”

 

“How is _Steve_ compromise?”

 

“Well,” Steve shrugs, “Mom said he can name me Harley, but then he doesn’t get to keep his.”

 

“Man, I wish he would’ve given up the bike,” Tony’s still chuckling. “Harley Rogers. I would’ve loved being with you in high school.”

 

Steve playfully nudges Tony in the ribs with his elbow.

 

“Anyway,” Steve rolls his eyes, “my dad taught me how to play the guitar. I played in the church rock band for a while. But it was never really my thing.”

 

“Must’ve been awesome though,” Tony says thoughtfully.

 

Once again, Steve feels it.

 

There’s no doubt that Tony still confuses the hell out of him. Of late, it’s been in a damn good way. But there’s something in Tony’s mood at that moment makes Steve certain that the question he’s been dying to ask for quite a while will never have a better moment than now to be voiced.

 

He looks down at the youngest Stark.

 

“What does _Tony_ want?”

 

“What?” Tony smirks with a raised brow.

 

“No, honestly,” Steve holds his straight face, not wavering once. “What _does_ Tony Stark want?”

 

Tony looks more baffled than thoughtful for a few short seconds.

 

“Would you believe me if I told you that no one has ever asked me that question before?”

 

“Yeah,” Steve nods simply, completely truthfully.

 

Tony sighs with a smile as if he’s nervous about the fact that he’s actually going to give Steve an honest answer.

 

As he opens his mouth to speak, Steve’s phone rings and Steve immediately wants to break it.

 

“Go ahead,” Tony encourages when Steve gives him a questioning look.

 

“Hello,” Steve grudgingly answers, grateful when Tony takes a moment to stop walking so that he can at least attempt to hear his interrupter over the liveliness around them.

 

“Steve,” he instantly recognizes Stan Lee’s voice. “Sorry to toy you around like this, but can you still meet me this morning?”

 

“Uh,” Steve prolongs, looking at Tony. He’s really happy with just spending the day with Tony; Stan’s cancellation had actually made his day. Steve isn’t so sure he’s ready to drop his unplanned plans with his… co-star.

 

“It’s pretty urgent.” Stan Lee says.

 

Steve inwardly curses himself for not leaving his cellphone back at the hotel.

 

“Yes, no problem, sir,” he ultimately decides, picking up on the fact that Lee’s question hadn’t really been a question at all. “I’ll be there.”

 

Steve shoves the phone into his pocket, not caring that he’s pouting.

 

“The president?” Tony raises a brow.

 

“Mr. Lee,” Steve sighs. “Apparently we’re still on.”

 

Tony nods easily. Steve assumes this type of indecisiveness isn’t alien to him at all.

 

“I’ll give you a ride.” Tony decides, and Steve is glad that they’ll at least have a little more time to spend together.

 

*****

 

There’s a certain feeling one gets when they know they’ve just stepped into a potentially disastrous situation. It’s an instinct, something most human beings are born with.

 

Steve always prides himself on how well his alarm works.

 

At that moment, he wishes it would momentarily malfunction, because he’s suddenly far too anxious.

 

How could he be blamed while seated across Stan Lee and under the scrutinizing eyes of Howard Stark?

 

Stan, he can handle. The man has done nothing but make him feel like family from the moment he’d announced that Steve got the part.

 

Howard Stark, on the other hand, is as terrifying as a rabid cat in a canary’s cage.

 

Although Steve’s mind is working in overdrive, given his circumstances, he doesn’t have to wait long to figure out exactly why he’s been called in once again.

 

“I know why you’re here,” Steve notices Stan’s look of defeat as Howard proceeds, “I know why you tried your chances at this business. I’ve done enough research on you. Somehow I knew you were going to be trouble.”

 

Steve wants to open his mouth, defend himself. At least say something.

 

But there’s something in Mr. Stark’s tone that makes Steve know that Howard really does have it right, leaving nothing to preserve. How he knows, Steve has no idea, but he can literally feel himself tremble.

 

How much does he know? What does he think? What will happen to Tony? It’s all that Steve can think about as he swallows the huge lump of fear hanging like a dull ache in his throat.

 

Even though Howards has said he knows, playing dumb seems to be a safe way out.

 

Because he’s stupid enough to hold onto chance.

 

A chance that Howard Stark has no concrete proof. A chance that he can still save Tony.

On some small scale, a chance that he can save himself.

 

“Mr. Stark,” Steve begins, “I’m fully aware of the fact that you don’t want your son to be in the movie. But I have nothing to do with his decision.”

 

“You never did,” Howard says a little too calmly. Steve looks at Mr. Lee who’s still uncharacteristically quiet in his seat. “I don’t blame you that he’s…. changed.”

 

Steve’s stomach heats up a little more.

 

There’s no doubting it. Mr. Stark knows everything.

 

“But, it’s not too late to change things,” Howard continues. “We can still get out of this in a way where everyone wins. Like I said Steve, I know what you need. I’ve spoken to Sharon Carter and I _know_ what you need. I can give that to you in a heartbeat, in the blink of an eye. But you have to make me a promise.”

 

Steve’s eyes narrows on their own accord, not devilishly, but thoughtfully. Pondering where exactly all this is leading. Wondering what Tony is doing. How far away he is. When he’ll be able to run to Tony for safety again.

 

“I’ll give you everything you need, right now,” Howard smirks convincingly, “if you’ll leave. Forget everything that’s happened while you were here. And stay the hell away from my son.”

 

*****

 

The decision hadn’t been hard to make.

 

Steve wishes it had been harder.

 

But, as Steve closes the office door, the realization of what he’s decided and what he’s sacrificing comes crashing down on him.

 

He can’t feel good or bad about it. There’s just no one way to it.

 

As Steve lets out a shaky breath, completely triumphant yet feeling extremely defeated, he does everything he can to clear his head of the past few minutes. Days. Weeks.

 

The past month.

 

It’s only a coincidence that as Steve walks down the corridor of the studio, his eyes happen to fall on Maria Stark.

 

Her face is similar to Tony’s. Not as akin as Howard’s, but he still feels Tony’s presence when looking at her.

 

Steve only assumes that she knows what’s going on, that she’s played a part in what’s happening.

 

The entire time while in the office, Stan Lee had said nothing. Steve had taken the only comfort he could in the sorrowful looks that Stan Lee had given him. Sorrow that could easily be misread as guilt.

 

He didn’t know what to expect from Tony’s mother after receiving an utterly ominous, deceitful greeting from Howard.

 

He doesn’t realize that he’s holding his breath as the distance vanishes between them.

 

And then nothing.

 

Nothing he’d expected.

 

It’s quite the opposite, Steve notices as he passes her. His teary eyes must be deceiving him. But, no.

 

She holds his gaze as he passes, no spite in her expression at all.

 

She observes him almost as if she’s inwardly coming to terms with something. She looks at him with only what Steve can pin as concern.

 

Concern for him?

 

Steve quickly brushes it off, knowing that it isn’t possible.

 

All he can do is forget about any correlation he’d ever had with any of the Stark’s for good.

He politely nods his departure before continuing on his way.


	17. Chapter 17

Tony saunters into the office, karate- kicking the door closed comically. With a wide grin, he holds up a box of what Lee can only assume are donuts. The bewildered skip in Tony step as he throws himself in the chair across from Lee only tears Lee apart that much more.

 

“Fresh from the bakery,” Tony says, placing the box between them. “Well, from the backery, and then they sat in my car for a while. The elevator ride up here is pretty long too so I guess they’re only half fresh.”

 

Usually, Lee would find amusement in Tony’s focused sarcasm, but not at this moment. He can’t even bring himself to try.

 

“Thanks,” Stan mutters subconsciously, wracking his brain for how to approach the subject correctly. In his mind, there already is no way. None that will lead to a favorable ending.

Stan Lee considers not mentioning anything at all, but that will only be holding off the inevitable. And he knows that if Tony is going to find out from anyone, it should be him.

Pepper will butter it up too much and leave the boy hopeful. Hogan will find some way of making it seem like its Tony’s fault. Howard, Stan thinks, the man will downright just rip the poor boy apart.

 

Tony doesn’t deserve that. Lee knows Tony deserves the truth.

 

He’d made a promise to Howard, but he’s already prepared to break it.

 

The revelation of Tony and Steve is one thing. Finding out about it pieced a lot of things together. For one, as he watches Tony speak to him even though he’s unable to take anything in, he notices a certain joy in the boy that Tony just never had before.

 

For a while he assumes that he’s digging a too deep, but it’s a little too obvious to require any manual labor at all.

 

Stan knows a picture’s worth a thousand words, and the pictures Brock showed up with were platinum. But, Tony’s glow seems to shoot all those photographs to hell.

 

Stan can tell that Tony is completely smitten.

 

“So anyway,” Tony continues, “where’s Steve, I thought my boyfriend would be here.”

 

Tony’s been joking like this the entire time, from the second the role was handed over. Even before. He’s been referring to Steve as his boyfriend when in the studio. No one has taken it seriously, assuming it was just Tony being Tony. Now, it makes Stan wonder just how long the little affair had been going on for.

 

“He left… a while ago,” Stan says, somewhat metallically. “Tony, the production has been postponed.”

 

Prolonging the issue wasn’t making it any easier, quite the opposite. And so Stan decides to dive right into it.

 

“What?” Tony raises a brow, sitting up a little straighter. “But, it’s only days away.”

 

“We have to do some re-casting,” Lee sighes, not liking any of this one bit. “So it’s just postponed until further notice.”

 

“Re-casting?”

 

“Steve dropped out.”

 

“That’s impossible,” Tony replies almost instantly. “He wouldn’t just drop out.”

 

“He did, Tony,” Stan nods, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “So everything is sort of at a standstill at the moment. He had a talk with your father and-”

 

“My father,” Tony frowns, getting to his feet. “Well then you know what? You can keep your script. No Steve, no Tony Stark.”

 

There were many things Stan Lee had always liked about Tony. From the moment the young man was still a boy, following Hogan around with a smile that brightened sets and an eagerness that drew masses.

 

But, Tony’s passion is what Stan loved most, and as he sees Tony’s temper flare and his sureness ooze stability, he can easily believe that Tony is a little more than just smitten by Steve Rogers.

 

“Tony,” Stan begins. “Take a seat. Let me finish.”

 

“No,” Tony scoffs. “I’m sick of this. It ends now.”

 

“I’m sorry Tony,” Lee mutters. It’s so low that he’s certain no one can hear it. It doesn’t matter either way; Tony Stark has already left the office and slammed the door.

 

*****

 

“What did you say to him?” Tony shoots at his father the second they meet in the corridor.

 

The corridor of the place Tony had once called home. He’d once looked forward to being there. And now, even the good memories that are framed and lined on the walls feel tainted.

 

Howard sighs, turning on his heel with an ease that merely upset Tony further.

 

Howard’s  been expecting his son to show up, but in all honestly, not so soon.

 

He makes his way to his study, fully aware that his son is right behind him.

 

“Listen to me,” Tony pushes on. His voice wasn’t loud, but it was evidently full of deep rage. “I know you spoke to him. What did you say?”  

 

“Tony,” Howard speaks steadily, “I did what any father would do. I protected my son.”

 

Tony is annoyed by his father’s choice of words, even further annoyed that his father’s back is turned to him as the man casually rummages through his book shelf.

 

“You told him to give up the role.”

 

“I always wanted him to,” Howard shrugs. “I wanted you to give it up even more though. But Steve Rogers made it so easy for me after our meeting today.”

 

Howard finds what he was looking for and tosses the envelope onto the desk between the two of them. When Tony simply eyes him, Howard gestures towards it, encouraging his boy to open it.

 

“You see, Tony,” Howard says, walking around the table as Tony lifts the envelope and carefully pulls out its contents “You see what happens when you trust the wrong people. When you refuse to trust the right ones. Steve Rogers hired some two-bit photographer to follow the two of you around just waiting for the perfect moment to get that money shot. He used you.”

 

“No,” Tony shakes his head, unable to look away from the images.

 

For some completely unexplainable reason, he isn’t taking into account the fact that his father has also viewed the very same photographs.

 

He’s still trying to get around his father’s words.

 

He doesn’t believe them.

 

He can’t.

 

He does, however, feel slightly uncomfortable when his father peers over his shoulder and looks down at the photographs in his hand.

 

“I wish I could tell you something else,” Howard consoles, “but you deserve the truth. He was leading you on, Tony. And that right there is his collateral. He threatened your career with those; I had to pay him off.”

 

“He wouldn’t,” Tony says, almost believing his own words.

 

“He did,” Howard confirms. “Listen, Tony, I know you must feel really bad right now, but what’s important to know is that the people who still care about you, the ones who always have, are still here. Why do you think I had Hogan and Pepper on your tail, I was concerned.”

 

Tony tears his eyes away from the photographs, searching his father’s eyes for a second. He tries to make sense of what the man is telling him, but he just can’t believe it. Believe that everything with Steve was all a lie. A setup.

 

He can’t believe that Steve faked his emotions or didn’t feel what he felt whenever they kissed. He doesn’t want to believe that it had all just been a scam.

 

And that he had allowed himself to fall for it.

 

Tony takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down when his father starts speaking again.

 

“Give it up son,” Tony feels one end of the battle dwindle as he pieces everything together. Only, there were certain parts of the puzzle that just refused to fit. Even with the truth being told to him, by the last person he’d ever expected it from.

 

Tony feels defeated.

 

He has one last resort.

 

*****

 

Tony Stark peers into the empty room. The vicinity that had once held Steve Rogers’s belongings now looks like just another hotel room. The luggage is gone, the gifts are nowhere in sight. All that’s left is a dedicated maid and hotel furniture.

 

“Are you alright, sir?” the young lady asks once turning off her vacuum cleaner, the low hum of the machine disappears.

 

Tony thinks before answering.

 

Is he alright?

 

The day had started so differently. It started so well.

 

A few hours later and everything’s changed right in front of him.

 

No, Tony rethought. It all completely changed behind his back.

 

In his previous role as Robert Downey Jr, his on-screen life had been drawn out for him

by everyone else. What he was to say was already written, what he was to feel was told to him. How he had to act was directed.

 

Who he was to hate and fall in love with was not his choice. The decisions he made were not his own.

 

Right then, Tony feels like his life over the past few weeks has just been one big production.

 

“Not really,” he looks at the lady whose face is a mask of concern.

 

“Can I get you anything?” she asks carefully, touching Tony’s arm cautiously.

 

“Could you maybe give me a minute,” Tony tries on a smile.

 

Tony Stark is completely accustomed to wearing a smile for Hollywood, even when his mood is shot to hell. He wonders if he’s pulling it off right, because to him, it doesn’t feel convincing.

 

“Of course, Mr. Stark,” she nods.

 

She hurriedly makes her way to the door, closing it softly so that Tony can be alone.

 

Seated on the edge of the bed, Tony dials the number one last time.

 

The first two times, the phone had just rung. He wasn’t sure if he was shocked or not that he’s third time lucky.

 

“Hello,” Steve answers, sounding slightly unsure of himself.

 

“Tell me it isn’t true?” Tony doesn’t care that he sounds desperate to hear it.

 

“I have nothing to say to you, Tony.”

 

Tony pretends not to notice the heated undertone in Steve’s voice. If anyone has the right to be angry, it’s him.

 

“Steve,” Tony sighs, “I’m a little bit confused at the moment. I thou-”

 

“Well, let me make it easy for you,” Steve interrupts. “You were right about me, Tony. After we first met, you were right. I _was_ only in it for the money. I wasn’t kidding when I said I don’t give a shit about the fame though. But, that doesn’t matter because I got what I wanted. Without having to go through all the stupid song and dance.”

 

“Steve?” Tony isn’t sure he’s hearing clearly.

 

“I don’t need you anymore,” Steve confirms, voice lowering. “I’ve got what I wanted. Just, stop calling me, okay.”

 

Tony stares down at his phone after Steve hang up.

 

His heart is slamming against his chest, head heating over with pain. His jaw clenches with rage.

 

At whom?

 

At that moment, at everyone.

 

Every memory with Steve Rogers has been a lie so sweet that its truth becomes as bitter as bile.

 

Tony Stark is shattered. 

 


	18. Chapter 18

“Who is it?” the young lady shouts from the bedroom.

 

Brock is still half way to the door, battling to get his pants back on, slightly annoyed by the fact that he’s forced to multi-task. A little more annoyed by the fact that the girl in his bed assumes he’s psychic.

 

Terribly irritated by fact that he doesn’t even remember her name.

 

But all of that fades when he peers through the peephole of his apartment door.

 

He’s only seen her once before, he’s been expecting a visit the entire day. He’s anticipated her anger, yet when he opens the door, he still stumbles back when she shoves him.

 

“How dare you!”

 

“Sharon,” Brock grins, backing away with his hands half in the air in subtle defense. “Nice to see you too.”

 

“You bypassed me?” she shouts.

 

“I never once claimed I could be trusted.”

 

“You went straight to his father!”

 

“This is a cut-throat business, Sharon,” Brock shrugs. “And you know this. I also gotta keep a roof over my head. Either way, what’s done is done. Now if you back off from being all hostile, I might put you in on the deal. Say… forty percent.”

 

Sharon Hendricks scoffs.

 

“My God, “she gives him a pitiful smile as she shakes her head. “You have a lot to learn.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“This color’s not cute on you,” Sharon says, referring to his idiocy and doubting he knows it. He further proves her point by looking down at his own pants and then back up at her.

“I could have gotten you so much more than they were willing to settle on.” Sharon states confidently. “We could’ve split it both ways and still remained with more. But you decided to screw me over.”

 

“You’re unbelievable,” Brock narrows his eyes. “Here I thought you were mad because the photographs of your client are not going to be all over mags and websites, when really,” Brock shakes his head with a smile, “really, all you wanted was a cut in the bribe.”

 

“Don’t think too hard,” she crosses her arms, “makes you look stupid. I lost my job because of your little stunt so that makes me almost as pitiful as you.”

 

“You lost your job?” Brock’s eyes widen slightly.

 

“That’s right,” Sharon nods smugly. “Thanks to you.”

 

There’s an awkward silence between the two of them, unfamiliar guilt creeping over Brock.

It’s a misplaced feeling, considering it how it is his job to make money off of the mishaps of others. But it’s different with Sharon.

 

Brock always feels comfort in what he does; reminding himself that it’s the celebrities who put themselves in the situation they’re in in the first place. They chose to be in the spotlight, they made that decision knowing full well what came with fame.

 

They know they’re targets, their every move is being watched by vipers such as himself. They know that they are giving up the private life for one wherein their every move will be a headline somewhere.

 

People like Sharon, however, she is just like him. A pesticide.

 

His twisted logic somehow leads him to this alien emotion. This thing called guilt.

 

He clears his throat.

 

“Sharon,” Brock begins, “I’m really sorry. I never thought that would happen. I assumed I could make it a win-win situation. I pocket a few extra k’s and you get Steve Rogers known. I was still going to sell the images either way.”

 

Sharon lifts a brow, thoroughly loving the man standing in front of her at that moment. He’s completely rugged and smells questionable, but she’s prepared to marry his mind.

 

His way of thinking.

 

“You were still gonna get them published?”

 

“Yeah,” Brock shrugs, “For you. But since you’re fired-”

 

“You can go ahead and do it for revenge,” Sharon finishes for him, completely changing what he was about to say. “I want Howard Stark to suffer.”

 

Brock grins, only because he’s felt the same way after a single encounter with the man.

 

“Can we do that?”

 

“You have back-up?” Sharon answers his question with a question.

“Always,” Brock nods, gesturing unnecessarily towards his apartment corridor, “My hard drive is a vault.”

 

Sharon doesn’t care about the extra information. Brock had her at _Always_.

 

*****

 

Tony turns his head further back as he’s instructed to do so. There’s an awkward strain in his neck, but he decides to ignore it. It had been there for almost a week now and he isn’t going to accept it as anything other than a bad night’s sleep. He keeps reminding himself to buy new pillows, but never gets around to it.

 

“Can you look down, Tony,” the photographer shouts, “just with your eyes, not your head?”

 

Tony notices how the spiky-haired man makes every order sound like a question. Of course he can look down and turn left and raise his head. He keeps himself amused by this since the more he thinks about it, the less sense it makes.

 

“Perfect,” Clint says, flash after flash hitting Tony’s eyes, “I think that’s a rap.”

 

Tony lets out the breath he’s been holding, relaxing the muscles he’s been flexing and rolls his neck until it clicks.

 

He gratefully accepts the towel he’s offered from an assistant, giving him a thankful smile before wiping off the fake sweat that had been sprayed on him throughout the photoshoot. When he pats his back dry as best he can, Tony tries his best not to ruin the temporary tattoo that’s been plastered onto him.

 

He wants to keep it for as long as he can, the intricate design amusing him enough to arouse thoughts of getting a real one. Nothing as big though, he confirms, remembering how the thing looked when he’d turned his back to the mirror.

 

It’s the logo of the men’s deodorant that he’s soon to be the face of.

 

With such a delightful crew and an awesome look, Tony decides that Hogan couldn’t have picked a better brand for him.

 

And for a fleeting second, he misses Hogan.

 

“That was great Tony.” Clint smiles at him. “I’m glad Hogan agreed to this.”

 

“Know what?” Tony smiles back, “so am I.”

 

“Where is he by the way?” Clint asks. The man is so rapt in the moment that he doesn’t notice Tony’s expression waver.

 

“Hogan quit,” Tony shrugs, “I guess I became a little too much for him to handle.”

 

Over the past few days, Tony has become accustomed to the look of shock that people give him when they find out that Hogan is no longer his agent. None match his own devastation when he’d gotten the news. But Tony has a new theory in life.

 

What’s done is done.

 

“You’re kidding me,” Clint says. “He’s been with you since the beginning. Why would he do that now?”

 

Tony’s constantly asking himself the same question, and so he doesn’t bother answering Clint. He knows it obviously has something to do with the fact that he’d taken on Stan Lee’s role. He’s certain Hogan had a problem with that. And so, he felt, if Hogan had a problem with that, Hogan shouldn’t matter.

 

Doesn’t matter.

 

Pepper doesn’t matter anymore either, since she’d decided to up and leave as well.

 

Tony’s never been so grateful that he’s a brilliant actor before; otherwise everyone would see just how much it all really hurt.

 

“Well, don’t lose sleep finding another,” Clint shrugs when he notices his question has somehow become rhetorical, “You’re Tony Stark, after all.”

 

“I am, aren’t I,” Tony chuckles, wondering why the hell, of late, it sounds like the worst kind of insult.

 

When Tony enters his temporary dressing room, he’s fully prepared to just shove his clothes back on and head home. Maybe pop in to see friends, because judging from the last few messages he’s been receiving, he hasn’t done that in ages.

 

The soft knock on the dressing room door completely spoils any plans that Tony was probably going to bail on last minute anyway.

 

“Mom,” Tony raises a brow, genuinely shocked, “what are you doing here?”

 

“I wanted to see how you’re doing,” she says, looking her son over in a slightly different way than he’s used to.

 

Tony grins a little too quickly in her opinion. Or maybe it’s just her over analyzing things. She isn’t sure.

 

The very thought makes her realize, it has been far too long since she’s last had alone time with Tony.

 

“I’m fine,” he makes a face as if thinking he isn’t is completely improbable.

 

Tony shrugged his shirt on.

 

“You haven’t been answering your father’s calls,’ Maria carefully points out.

 

“I’ve been busy, mom,” Tony shrugs.

 

Maria clasps her hands together, thinking of a good way to approach the subject. She notices that Tony is distracting himself with small tasks, like changing his shoes and stuffing his gear into his duffel bag.

 

“Maybe you should take a little time off,” Maria suggests. “You don’t have to come home like your dad wants. Just, some time away from work.”

 

Tony watches his mother for a moment before smiling. “Work is all I’ve got.”

 

“Oh Jesus, Tony,” Maria sighs, completely hating the obligation she has to her husband. The one that she once thought she was going along with only to protect her son and now feels like the very thing causing the most damage. “Tony, I need to tell you something.”

 

“Can it wait?” Tony swings the duffel bag over his shoulder, “I was really keen on just heading home and-”

 

“You need to talk to Steve.”

 

Maria sees something flash over Tony’s face. A hint of emotion that she’s completely unaccustomed to.

 

“Mom, please,” Tony says by way of dismissal, making his way to the door.

 

Maria’s hands on his wrists slows him.

 

“Tony, listen to me.”

 

“No, mom, okay,” Tony’s shocked by the rise in his own voice. “Just stop. To hell with Steve, to hell with everyone. I’m sick of people telling me what to do. What to feel. I just wanna move on.”

 

“But you don’t understand.”

 

“You know what,”  Tony shrugs his mother off, dropping his bag. “I think for the first time I finally do. So I got used, big deal. It happens all the time to people like me.”

 

Maria holds still, holding her breath subconsciously as she watches her son sought through his emotions in front of her.

 

She watches Tony’s eyes dart around as if the answers will somehow be there. She notices that his breathing is slightly uneven as if he’s having an inward battle to keep his rage in check.

 

Maria can’t help but marvel at how much Tony resembles Howard right then.

 

Another silent reminder of how he isn’t a child anymore.

 

Of how she has to let him go.

 

Maria’s heart sinks when Tony’s eyes finally meet her own. There’s no mistaking his desperate effort to hold back tears. It’s almost too unbearable to witness. Knowing that her husband has everything to do with it. Admitting that she could’ve prevented it from getting this far.

 

As Maria covers the ground between them, she can already feel Tony withdraw.

 

She isn’t going to let him.

 

“Mom, don’t,” she hears her son’s voice break as she pulls the protesting young man into her arms. It doesn’t take long before she feels his efforts weaken, and then his head drops to her shoulder. Maria feels utter relief when his arms finally wrap around her, pulling her in a little harder. “How could he do that to me, mom? I thought he… I thought he loved me.”

 

Maria knows who Tony’s talking about. As shocking as it all still is, she knows he’s rhetorically questioning her about Steve Rogers. In her mind, she envisions Tony asking the same question about Howard as well.

 

Maria can feel it coming, and it almost hurts too hard for her to continue.

 

“Please don’t hate him, Tony,” Maria puts space between them enough to see Tony’s face. Tony’s doing everything not to look her in the eye, a shameful pink tint crossing his face as his mother wipes the dampness from his cheeks. “Don’t hate your father. Please forgive him.”

 

Tony frowns; completely baffled.

 

“He lied to you because he loves,” Maria goes on, further confusing her son. “He doesn’t know how to show it Tony, but his heart is really in the right place. That’s why he fired Hogan and Pepper. That’s why he made Steve leave. He did what he thought was best for you in the worst way possible.”

 

“Fired Hogan…?” Maria counts the seconds as her words begin to sink in. “ _Made_ Steve….? Mom…?”

 

Maria nods, feeling too exhausted to elaborate any further. Then her stomach heats over knowing exactly what’s coming next.

 

“You knew all this time?” Tony asks quietly.

 

An apologetic nod is all she can manage.

 

She knows he won’t understand, not now. He won’t see peoples’ efforts to protect him. Not her efforts or her husband’s. All he can see is the people who are supposed to love him, ripping him of the little _real_ joy he had to satisfy themselves.

 

It hurts, but at that moment, that’s exactly what Maria wants. As Tony walks out of the room, she knows it’s just what was needed for Tony to find himself.

 

For Tony to find Steve Rogers again.

 


	19. Chapter 19

“You actually got her at a bad time,” the lady states, leading Tony into the partially empty office. “She’s collecting the last of her stuff. You’re free to wait for her if you’d like.”

 

The stale smell of cigarettes hits Tony’s nostrils and he refrains from scrunching his nose as he takes in his surroundings.

 

The place holds an uncanny resemblance to how he pictures Sharon Carter.

 

Cold. Empty. Dark.

 

Even with the blinds parted there’s still something about the place that makes it feel dull.

 

He wonders how Steve had trusted her. Why he’d knocked at _her_ door.

 

If everything would be different if Steve hadn’t stood in that specific doorway.

 

“I’ll wait,” Tony offers the lady with a smile. He’s grateful when she removes a box of files from a chair and offers it to him.

 

“It shouldn’t take too long,” she assures, accepting Tony’s nod before heading out.

 

Tony absently taps his fingers on the armrest anxiously.

 

It’s  been a two hour drive getting there, another half hour finding Sharon Carter’s studio in a town he hardly knows. He’s had ample time to think about exactly what he was going to say to her. What he really wanted out of this unscheduled meeting.

 

Yet still, he has nothing.

 

He wants answers, that much is obvious. He expects excuses, and could care less about what they might be. He can’t envision an apology, at least not a sincere one.

 

As far as Tony is concerned, he’d received enough apologies to last him a lifetime within such a short span of time.

He knows he’s angry, his rage is directed at no one and everyone at the same time. Mainly at himself for being so stupid. For not seeing what was right in front of him, offering itself so clearly.

 

So Tony makes a promise to himself to be more vigilant.

 

And as if by pure coincidence, his eyes drop to the box beside him. The one on floor that has dividers stacked alphabetically.

 

Instinct guides him as he gets to his knees, scanning through the partitions until he got to _R_.

 

It’s the only file there and he feels his stomach twist when he lifts it, the name on the dotted line jumping out at him: _Rogers, Steve_.

 

When he opens the docket, the headshots that follow make his heart race. Breathtaking in their simplicity, portraying Steve exactly how Tony remembers him.

 

Bright eyes, warm smile. Beautiful.

 

It makes Tony wonder why everything is so different now when he looks at Steve. Before, it was a fellow, obviously attractive, co-star. Now, he’s the essence of all Tony’s desires.

 

He’s never felt this way around other guys. Hell, he’d been able to look and appreciate their good looks without anything attached.

 

But it’s different with Steve.

 

Tony moves past the photos, feeling tense relief when the next page of the file gives him exactly what he needed.

 

He doesn’t need to speak to Sharon Carter anymore; there’s just no reason to. Hell, he’s grateful that he no longer even has to tolerate her for a second.

 

Not with the gold he’s holding in his hand.

 

Tony closes the file and clutches it underneath his arm before making his way to the door.

 

“You know what?” Tony says, making his way through the lobby, “I think I’m gonna head out. I found what I was looking for.”

 

“Mr. Stark,” the receptionist’s eyes go wide when she sees what Tony has commandeered, “you’re not permitted to take that. It’s clients’ documentation. That’s illegal. Even if Sharon no longer works here, you could get into a lot of trouble.”

 

“Yeah?” Tony grins almost wickedly in what felt like forever. “You make sure they know exactly who took it.”

 

And with that, Tony was gone.

 

*****

 

Pepper’s blonde hair falls in waves over his pillow. Her breathing is calm, reflecting nothing of what she’s feeling inside. She lays still as Hogan brushes tired circles over her bare shoulder with his thumb.

 

The warmth radiating off of his chest and onto her back was almost distracting. Just not as effective as she would have liked it to be.

 

“Where are you?” Hogan asks quietly, obviously aware that she’s far too deep in thought.

 

“This whole Tony ordeal,” she confesses without a second thought.

 

Disappointed by her reply, but hardly shocked, Hogan rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling.

 

 “You know what?” Hogan begins, “I think you should just forget about all that. You have a hell of a track record; you’ll find another job in a heartbeat. And me, I can finally pay a little more attention to my other clients. This isn’t the end of the world, Pepper.”

 

“I’m not talking about that, and you know it,” Pepper turns around under the soft duvet, glaring at the side of Hogan’s face. “Why am I even speaking to you, I didn’t expect you to care. You never have. I’m going to check on him because, you know, Hogan, someone has to look at that boy as something other than a complete fuck-up. Since I’ve been handed that role, I’ll run with it.”

 

Pepper shimmies her way out of the bed, completely unaware of the glare Hogan was shooting at her back.

 

“Are you kidding me with this?” Pepper hears Hogan say as she shoves her clothes back on. “Are you hearing yourself right now?”

 

When Hogan gets out of the bed, Pepper’s grateful that he’d at least bothered putting his briefs back on before confronting her. Somehow, arguing with a naked seemed uncouth.

 

“Well,” she begins, “you’ve done nothing but make the boy feel incompetent. You’re just as bad as Howard.”

 

“Don’t you dare compare me to that man,” Hogan states sharply and Pepper can tell that she’s actually offended him. “I’m nothing like him. You weren’t there from the beginning - I was. I was the one who got him to school every morning, who made sure he was okay. I sat through all his troubles and listened to his girl problems when he hit puberty. I’ve always been there.”

 

Pepper watches Hogan carefully, watching his face turn color with emotion.

 

“All I ever tried to do was protect him from Howard,” Hogan sighs. “Howard was my closest friend, I knew him all too well. I still do. I had to steer Tony in Howard’s direction to make life easier on the boy. So don’t you dare make it out as if I don’t care about him. I love that kid more than Howard ever could.”

 

There’s something in Hogan that makes it look like he’s only just fully realizing this himself.

 

“I’ve been more of a father to him than Howard ever has.” Hogan frowns, looking away from Pepper, somewhat deep in thought. “I love him.”

 

It takes a moment of Pepper just staring at Hogan’s discomfort with the situation before she moves towards him. Once close enough, she wraps her arms around his shoulders.

 

Hogan isn’t sure if he’s more surprised by her actions or by the smile he’s greeted by when he finally looks into her eyes again.

 

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that.” Pepper says with a sigh. “I think Tony should know that, though. I think _now_ more than ever, Tony _needs_ to know”.

 

*****

 

Another four hours on the road with only two stops in total.

 

One to get an energy drink and impulse purchase a few Twinkie’s, and then the second to use the bathroom at some remote gas station. He checks the address on Steve’s file one more time.

 

The place he’s parked outside of just has to be the right one.

 

He has no doubt it is, which is why his hesitance intensified.

 

Tony is downright nervous.

 

There’s an endless amount of ways this could end. Different scenarios that could play out. Tony wonders when he’d suddenly adopted such a negative attitude, because all the scenarios that do play out in his head don’t have favorable endings at all.

 

He takes one last deep breath before tossing the file aside and exiting his car.

 

He hasn’t come this far just to turn back now.

 

Tony clenches his fist twice, counting down seconds before ultimately knocking on the front door.

 

He’d absently noticed the welcoming plainness of the place as he’d walked up the short driveway. It’s one of those old fashioned family homes, conservative and well kept, complete with front porch and a porch swing.

 

Tony hasn’t seen one of those in ages.

 

He isn’t sure if it’s relief he’s feeling when it doesn’t take too long for the door to swing open.

 

“Hello,” Tony finds his words a second later than he would have liked. It isn’t like the person standing in front of him has bothered speaking either. “I was wondering if Steve Rogers is here.”

 

“Oh my, my, my,” the lady in front of him softly exclaims, and Tony only slightly takes note of her running a nervous hand through her white hair while straightening her apron with the other. “You’re that young man from the television.”

 

Of late, Tony has been sick of being reminded about that. Somehow, the woman’s reaction only amuses him.

 

It’s hope. Hope that maybe Steve has been speaking about him to his family. His family has made an effort to know who he is.

 

Tony wants to offer her a smile, but he doesn’t. He knows it will shake.

 

“Yes ma’am,” Tony nods politely.

 

“Please,” he’s slightly taken off guard by the enthusiastic hand grabbing him, ushering him in without room for objection, “Come in. Oh my, can I get you anything.”

 

“Uh,” Tony smiles nervously, “Steve, maybe?”

 

Tony isn’t sure if he’s supposed to follow the old lady further into the house, but hesitantly, he does. He’s quickly greeted with an inviting smell of a home-cooked meal, something he’s completely unfamiliar with. It faintly reminds him of the days that his mother would treat the family a new recipe she’d picked up from her culinary classes. And then Howard made her stop after hiring more than one full time maid to take care of , what he called, chores that were beneath a Stark.

 

“Oh, yes,” she says, turning back to Tony. “Unfortunately, he’s out of town.”

 

Tony feels his stomach drop, hope dying completely. He wonders when the hell he’s going to catch a break.

 

“He left with his father just yesterday,” she informs. “Got shipped by the ambulance and everything. I wouldn’t expect any less, I’ll tell you that much. Not with what the hospital bill looks like.”

 

“Hospital bill?”

 

“Yes,” the lady confirms as if Tony should be knowing this already. “For Joseph’s operation. Steven’s father.”

 

For a moment, neither of them says a word. Tony’s trying to remember Steve had told about it, but he just hadn’t being paying attention. Maybe he hadn’t listened to Steve well enough at all.

 

“Oh dear,” the lady says, gesturing for Tony to sit down at the kitchen table. “It doesn’t really shock me that much though. Steve has always been like that. Kept a lot to himself. I just assumed he’d told you.”

 

“What’s wrong with his father ma’am?” Tony asks, not paying much attention to what she’s doing.

 

“Forgive me, where are my manners,” she smiles at him over her shoulder. “I’m Wanda, but everyone in town calls me Aunt Wanda. Steve seems to prefer Ms. Wanda. But I guess you can choose whatever tickles your fancy. I’m a bit of a town celebrity myself, obviously nothing like you. I bet folks around here are gonna be thrilled to see you. All I get is extra fruit in my basket every now and then but you, I bet you-”

 

Tony’s only slightly annoyed by Ms. Wanda’s inability to stick to one topic at a time. There’s something far too sweet about her for him to get completely irritated.

 

Tony nods with a polite smile and then doesn’t really care if he’s being too forward when he pushes, “about his father, Ms. Wanda?”

 

“Right,” she returns to the table and takes a seat. Not before placing a fresh slice of American pie in front of Tony. “Where to begin.”

 

*****

 

The old lady is stubborn, but as Tony steps into the room, he’s glad he’s taken her up on her offer. He’s exhausted and the bed in front of him looks far too appealing.

 

Even more so that it belongs to Steve.

 

After sitting with Ms. Wanda for the better part of two hours, he’s found out what he’d wanted to know. Steve’s truth. He didn’t really care about everyone else’s.

 

As he strips out of his clothes, taking in every detail of the room as he goes along, a strong part of him wants to just go against his promise and drive the extra miles to see Steve.

 

Ms. Wanda has assured Tony that she was already heading up to see Joseph’s progress in the morning. She assured him that he’s more than welcome to tag along and Tony immediately accepted. But right now he feels an intoxicating need to be with Steve at that very moment.

 

After hearing about the motorbike accident, about Steve’s mother’s death. About this operation being the only procedure that may give his father the hopes of ever walking again. After all that, all Tony can think about is comforting Steve.

 

He feels so guilty for ever doubting Steve. For ever believing his father.

 

He wonders what Steve must be going through. The entire family, in fact.

 

The photograph on Steve’s nightstand catch Tony’s eye. It’s a family photograph. Bright smiles all around with Steve looking a lot younger.

 

Tony smiles at that, noticing how Steve looked more pretty than handsome back then. He actually looks more like his mother than his father. Every single family photo that lines the walls in his own parents’ house was shot in a studio and later digitally enhanced to perfection.

 

He envies the simplicity of the wooden framed image on the nightstand.

 

A picture probably taken by a neighbor or a family friend. Someone like Ms. Wanda.

 

He’s never had that before. Nothing special like that.

 

Tony pulls the covers back and drops himself into Steve’s bed, the boy’s scent instantly invading Tony’s nostrils.

 

It’s so intoxicating that he wonders if he’ll be able to actually get any sleep.

 

But as he nestles into the pillows and sinks into the mattress, picturing Steve doing the same in that very bed, the most comfortable sleep almost instantly takes over.

 


	20. Chapter 20

 

The sight alone is enough evoke all sorts of emotions. It feels almost surreal seeing Steve lying there, possibly deep in sleep. His face is drawn into a soft frown, giving away his discomfort. Tony hardly doubts he’s uncomfortable considering the way he was sleeping.

 

Hospital waiting room chairs are uncomfortable to sit on to begin with, Steve’s attempting to sleep on two pulled together.

 

As Tony crouches down to his knees and watches Steve, he feels bad that he has to wake him up. What if Steve had been awake all night? What if he’d only just laid his head down and passed out. The boy’s obviously exhausted, Tony knows that. Seeing Steve there like that puts all of Tony’s problems far behind him. There’s only room to feel for one person at that moment.

 

Hesitantly, Tony brings his hand up, moving his fingers through Steve’s messy blond hair. He knows he’s prolonging the inevitable, but it can only last for so long.

 

“Steve,” he hears himself say, a sort of outer body experience. Steve moves a little, nestling further into his jacket as if subconsciously fighting off the cold air from the harsh hospital air-conditioners. “Steve, wake up.”

 

Steve’s brows draw in a little harder as his eyes flutter open, clearly annoyed by whatever or with whoever is disturbing him. When he’s blinked the sleep away enough to see who’s in front of him, it takes a moment for him to fully register.

 

“Tony?” Steve mutters, not fully believing it is really Tony’s eyes he’s looking into. Steve immediately sits up, moving quickly as if the illusion will disappear if he takes a second too long. “Tony, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t… I’m sorry.”

 

Tony’s a little startled by Steve’s arms around his shoulders, a little shocked by the kisses Steve is planting on his lips between words. But he loves it so much and would’ve let it go on forever were it not for the fact that they did have an audience in the otherwise empty waiting room.

 

“Steve,” Tony pulls away from the kiss, still aware of Steve’s hands in his hair and on his neck. Their eyes lock, neither wanting to look away. While Steve’s look is nervous, Tony is trying his best to look reassuring.

 

He doubts he’s pulling it off right.

 

Tony nudges his head to the side to offer Steve a mute explanation and when Steve looks in that direction, he’s shocked to see Ms. Wanda standing some distance away. Ms. Wanda’s smile is gentle, completely knowing and comfortingly warm.

 

He looks back at Tony, questioningly. Tony knows what he was thinking. However, all his questions can be answered later.

 

“Let’s get you home,” Tony whispers, getting to his feet and helping Steve up in the process.

 

Even though Steve does know it will be another day before his father will wake up, he still feels bad for wanting to leave the hospital as much as he does right then.

 

Tony and Steve stand in front of each other for the first time in what feels like forever, Steve searching Tony’s face, while Tony distracts himself by straightening up the disorientated boy in front of him.

 

Steve feels a weight lift off his shoulders when Tony’s hand slips into his and their fingers entwine as they walk towards Ms. Wanda and the boys.

 

Together.

 

*****

Steve isn’t one much for surprises.

 

Of late, they all tend to be negative in one way or another.

 

From the first surprise he got mere months ago.

 

He’d been expecting the arrival of his parents, returning from their Sunday afternoon bike ride. One they had enjoyed together ever since Steve could remember, and even before that. Instead, Steve had been greeted by two, burly police officers standing at the door with news that altered his life forever.

 

Landing a role in a Marvel Production was also a major surprise for Steve. He’d known about Marvel for years, the company’s ratings higher than any other in the film industry. It was still a surreal feeling that he’d rubbed shoulders with the best of the best, even though he was sure that was all going to be behind him now.

 

Waking up at the hospital to Tony Stark’ face was what he’d thought would be the biggest and only surprise for the day. Though completely pleased by this, he was extremely nervous from the uncomfortable silence that had surrounded them on the long car ride back home. He’d tried not to doze off so as not to miss any moment that Tony might decide to speak to him. But Tony’s shoulder was apparently more comfortable than he’d thought, and shortly after resting his head there, he was out for the next hour.

 

Steve finds himself completely unprepared for this situation as Ms. Wanda parks the car in their driveway-

 

-right beside Bucky’s black van.

 

“Looks like you have a visitor, Steven,” Ms. Wanda mutters. It’s completely obvious that she’s less than pleased and Tony finds himself more confused than curious.

 

Especially since Steve’s little brother’s seem to be utterly thrilled by the revelation.

 

Tony watches the two boys run to the front porch. To where a young dark-haired man is seated on the porch swing.

 

His hair is long, tied in a single, low ponytail. His jeans are worn and the black jacket that he’s wearing seems as though it had been tailored just for him. Tony doubts anyone else can pull that look off, but this guy does almost poetically.

 

Tony, however, doesn’t care too much for how he’s looking at Steve. Even from the short distance, as the guy drops his cigarette and stomps it out, Tony can see the predatory gaze being directed at Steve.

 

Only Steve. Nobody else.

 

Tony feels himself go on the defensive, wondering if he actually has any right to at all.

Either way, he can’t seem to shake the feeling.

 

“Hello, Ms. Wanda,” the young man smiles at the old lady, despite her inability to return it in the slightest.

 

“Bucky,” Ms. Wanda nods, not offering him any more acknowledgment before scurrying into the house, “I’m going to start dinner.”

 

Steve nods absently, and when he looks back at Bucky, he’s now staring, wide-eyed, at Tony.

Not a lot amuses Bucky, Steve knows this. That’s why his tiny hint of shock goes a long way.

 

“Tony Stark,” Bucky half laughs, half scoffs. “No wonder Steve’s forgotten all about me.”

 

“Bucky,” Steve warns with a sigh. He watches the two boys shake hands as civilized as two civilized young men can fake.

 

“No, don’t worry,” Bucky shrugs, letting go of Tony’s hand, “I’m actually really impressed. You really aimed high, didn’t you?”

 

Steve groans inwardly.

 

“ _I_ was actually the one aiming high,” Tony grins, staring Bucky right in the eye.

 

Steve looks at Tony, almost completely at loss for words.

 

“I’m shocked.”

 

“You wouldn’t be if you knew Steve like I do.”

 

“Oh, ok.” Bucky scoffs. “You shag a couple times in the span of a month and now suddenly you know him?”

 

“Bucky,” Steve realizes he’s just been standing there like an idiot, watching them stand off.  He grabs Bucky’s arm, trying to guide him to his black van, but Bucky doesn’t budge. “Bucky, please. Can we talk quick?”

 

“That’s why I’m here,” Bucky shrugs, still watching Tony carefully.

 

Steve turns to Tony, pleading with his eyes for privacy. Tony also picks up on the unspoken apology before nodding.

 

“I’ll go help Ms. Wanda.”

 

As Tony closes the front door, he fights the tiny urge he has to eavesdrop.

 

Tony goes to the kitchen, not the least bit surprised to see Ms. Wanda already bustling with vegetables over a chopping board. Only, as she chops, she seems to be doing it with a little more effort than necessary. The loud knocks of steel against wood give away her annoyance.

 

 “Let me help you with that,” Tony smiles down at the old lady once beside her. It only takes a second of thought before she genuinely returns his smile, handing him the knife.

 

“Ya know,” Tony begins, “You may want to tell me why you hate that guy so much. I hate him too, but, of course for my own reasons. It would just be so much more fun if we did it together. We could get club cards and matching t-shirts and everything.”

 

Ms. Wanda laughs, giving Tony’s arm a back-handed swat before sighing.

 

“That boy is doing everything he can to try to get back into Steve’s life,” Ms. Wanda shakes her head. “Well, now that Steve is worth something in his eyes.”

 

“Should I be worried?” Tony asks offhandedly. Then he feels himself blush for two reasons.

One, because he’s been more worried about himself when Ms. Wanda was clearly worried about Steve. And then because the kitchen’s become silent, and Ms. Wanda’s eyes are intently searching his own.

 

“A while ago, I would have said yes,” Ms. Wanda nods thoughtfully. “Bucky is real good at pulling Steve apart. But Now, I’d say you have absolutely nothing to worry about. When Steve came home, I could hardly believe it was the same kid. Something’s changed him. He looked a lot stronger, you know. Something tells me he’s a lot stronger now.”

 

Tony smiles, wondering if the short time they’d spent together could have anything to do with it. He would like to think it did.

 

“Oh,” Ms. Wanda raises her brows, looking behind Steve as he enters the kitchen, “Bucky not staying for Dinner? How tragic.”

 

Tony holds back a chuckle at the old lady’s blatant sarcasm.

 

Steve rolls his eyes. “Not tonight, Ms., Wanda.”

 

When Steve’s eyes meet Tony’s, he isn’t sure what he sees there. He feels like he needs to explain everything to him. Not just about Bucky, but about everything. He’s completely exhausted, but he knows they need to talk. The question is, when.

 

When they have a moment alone, Steve resolves as he busies himself by helping with supper.

 

*****

 

When Steve returns to his room Tony is already lying in his bed, his outline under the covers like it belongs there. Steve walks quietly towards the bed, wondering if he’s asleep. Assuming he is asleep. Almost hoping he is, only because Steve hasn’t yet gathered his wits long enough to figure out exactly what he’s going to say to Tony.

 

Steve only half takes into consideration that Tony is on his side of the bed as he crawls under the covers.

 

Steve moves gently, resting his head on Tony’s shoulder and draping an arm over his chest as he tangled their legs together perfectly.

 

And then Tony swiftly rolls over, finding just the right place on Steve’s lap.

 

Tony holds himself up, arms positioned on either side of Steve’s head. Steve’s breathing quickens noticeably and still no words coming to mind.

 

Despite the situation, when Tony leans forward to kiss Steve’s neck, Steve feels his body react. Steve’s eyes flutter shut, mind completely taking in the sensation.

 

A sensation he’d been sure he would never feel again.

 

One he just realizes he so desperately needed.

 

Steve lets out a controlled breath, rolling his head to the side as Tony continues. He moves his hands from the ripples of muscle on Tony’s stomach right around to trace the notches of his spine, not remembering him being so toned, but loving it either way. Tony’s tongue brushes up his throat, and when his hips thrust up to meet Tony’s, Steve realizes that he couldn’t have controlled it.

 

And right then, he so desperately needed to.

 

They really needed to talk.

 

Tony seems to take it as invitation enough to grind down against Steve and Steve is only half surprised to feel the other boy as hard as he is.

 

Steve forces his eyes open, not seeing much at all. He lets out a sharp breath when Tony rolls his hips a little too skillfully for him to ever claim he can’t dance. Then Steve realizes, as Tony’s teeth sink into his shoulder, there is no way he will be able to get a word in if he lets this continue.

 

“Tony,” he whispers.

 

Steve feels Tony’s thighs close around him, pinning his hips, making Steve’s resolve slip further as Tony kisses a hot trail from his shoulder to his chest.

 

“Tony,” Steve tries again, and this time instead of encouraging Tony’s actions by massaging his scalp and rolling his hips, he gently pushes at Tony’s chest.

 

Tony ceases what he’s doing; looking down at the spot his lips have last touched as if memorizing the location he has to pick up from.

 

“Look at me,” Steve pleads, taking Tony’s face in his hands and forcing their eyes to meet. Both boys are still breathing heavily, both still furiously aroused, but the look they share at that moment holds none of the desire that their bodies are radiating.

 

“I really am sor-”

 

“Don’t do that,” Tony frowns, closing his eyes. “You see this is why… Just don’t. Don’t you dare apologize to me.”

 

Tony feels bad when he opens his eyes again and even in the near dark he can see pain cross over Steve’s face.

 

Tony knows he needs to elaborate.

 

“I was angry, Steve. I was so mad at you,” Tony gives a short nervous chuckle. “But when I found out everything … when I found out why you did what you did, I got even angrier.”

 

“Tony –”

 

“No,” Tony cut in, “let me finish. It hurt because I was wondering why you didn’t tell me. I could have helped you; you knew I would’ve done anything to help you. Anything.”

 

Steve realizes he hadn’t once thought about asking Tony for assistance. It just never crossed his mind. He had set out to do something, and as always, was determined to complete it himself. He never would have asked Tony either way, even if the idea had come up at the right moment.

 

“I should have told you,” Steve nods, “but I couldn’t have accepted anything from you. It would have felt like I was using you or something.”

 

“That’s inevitably what you had me thinking, Steve.” Tony shrugs as Steve fights not to look away. “But this isn’t about me. I just, don’t want you to apologize. I don’t want you to feel bad about this because that’s all over now, okay. We’re here, that’s all that matters. And I think you were fucking brave doing what you did for your dad. I respect your decision. I respect you more for your decision, just….. don’t leave me out of the know again. Don’t leave me, period.”

 

Steve returns the soft smile that Tony’s trying on, unable to completely vanquish the guilt that creeps up despite Tony’s words.

 

“I promise,” Steve whispers, seconds before their lips touch.

 

Steve hears himself murmur another promise that gets lost somewhere in the back of Tony’s throat. His fingers skimming through the smaller boy’s hair, eager hands cupping his jaw and holding his neck. Anything not to lose this contact.

 

Tony wonders if Steve knows the kind of effect his hands have on him. And they aren’t even below his neck yet. Tony shivers at the thought, further deepening the maddening kiss if it at all possible.

 

“I missed you,” Tony hears Steve whisper. It immediately stops his progress and he holds still, letting the words sink in. He smiles down at Steve, and when they kiss again, it’s soft and slow.

 

There simply is no rush.

 

They have all night.


	21. Chapter 21

Steve can’t help but smile as he watches his father inspect the thin tube that’s pierced into his arm. As he twists his arm around, Joseph Rogers winces slightly, but seems to be more concerned about whether or not all his tattoos were still in tacked. Steve looks at Tony who seems uncharacteristically uncomfortable. He’s grateful for the encouraging smile that Tony manages followed by a gentle push towards the hospital bed.

 

“Dad,” Steve speaks softly.

 

Joseph looks up, only just realizing he isn’t alone anymore. Irritation quickly vanishes, a pleased look taking over the man’s face as he looks his son over.

 

“Was I asleep that long?” Joseph smirks, “Jesus, you’ve grown. Come over here.”

 

Tony smiles as he watches Steve hug his father as best as he can without disturbing the hospital apparatus. Apart from the shaggy grizzled hair and dark morning shadow, there’s no mistaking the obvious resemblance between the two.

 

Steve hasn’t spoken much about his father. About his family in general. Tony finds himself wondering if that’s his own fault. Their entire time spent together revolved around the production and the script. Around pointless fights and Tony’s family issues.

 

Tony feels guilty for not picking up on something this huge.

 

“How are you feeling?” Steve asks, not moving too far away from his dad’s side.

 

“Not much, actually.” Joseph grins, holding firmly onto his son’s hand. “I dunno, do you think they’ll let me take a souvenir?”

 

Steve chuckles, looking up at the Demerol drip and then back at his father. “Maybe if you behave and don’t drag race on your wheelchair in the middle of the night.”

 

“You mean that’s not allowed?” Joseph raises his brows, “I’ve blown it already then.”

 

Steve’s laughter quickly dies down when a certain look crosses his father’s face. He tenses slightly when Joseph moves his hand to his cheek.

 

He’d known this part was coming. He isn’t quite sure if he’s ready for it.

 

“You’re my hero, you know that?”

 

The simplest of words with infinite meaning hit Steve so hard. Steve can’t hold it in anymore and it only becomes harder when the tears in his father’s eyes sparkled as well. Steve finally lets them fall freely, moving his hand over his father’s as Joseph gently wipes his son’s damp cheeks.

 

“Don’t do that,” Joseph gives a sad smile, “don’t make your old man cry.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Steve chokes out a sobbed chuckle, smiling down at his father.

 

A moment of silence passes and Steve finds himself holding his breath, praying that his father has taken it to heart when he had literally begged him to stop blaming himself for their mother’s death.

 

Begged him to stop apologizing.

 

It’s probably what Joseph was seconds away from doing before he notices movement in the room.

 

A young man standing a few feet away behind his son.

 

A familiar looking young man, shifting from foot to other, doing his best to blend in with the hospital walls.

 

Steve notices the genuine smile grace his father’s features and immediately picks up on who Joseph’s looking at. As if just remembering that Tony is there, he straightens up, clears his throat and wipes his remaining tears away. Steve hopes the embarrassment isn’t _too_ obvious on his face.

 

“Now, who else in my wing can say they get one hospital visit by two celebrities in one day?” Joseph chuckles.

 

“Uh, Dad, this is-”

 

“Tony Stark,” Joseph winces slightly as he tries to get a better look.

 

“Take it easy, Dad.”

 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Rogers.”

 

“It feels like I know you already,” Joseph’s handshake is firm, almost playfully challenging in a way. “The Series channel hasn’t stopped playing your re-runs all day.”

 

Steve notices Tony blush, withdrawing slightly. He half wishes his father hadn’t brought that part of Tony up, but can hardly blame his old man for it.

 

“Well to reassure you, Sir,” Tony smiles, “I’m nothing like that guy.”

 

“I’ll call that damn good acting then,” Joeseph rests back down again with a chuckle. “And its Joe to you, son. Haven’t heard enough about you,” he looks at his son, “I’m hoping that’s gonna change.”

 

Tony only feels half embarrassed about displaying such affection in front of the man when Steve takes his hand. He decides to relax when all Joseph offers was a pleased smile.

 

“Do you think you’ve got enough energy for one more visitor?” Steve asked hopefully.

 

“Wait; don’t tell me,” Joseph jokes, “Mel Gibson?”

 

“No more celebs, Dad,” Steve grins, grateful that Tony’s able to fake a chuckle at his father’s terrible sense of humor. “I’ll send her in, okay?”

 

With a few parting words and waves, Tony and Steve leave the room, letting Mrs. Wanda get her chance to see Joseph Rogers.

 

*****

 

That afternoon, it was decided by both boys a nap was necessary. Especially after long road trips and emotional visits.

 

Steve knows Tony is half awake. He himself has just drifted back into consciousness. When he turns around and looks up at Tony, he suddenly wishes they were both still asleep.

 

Tony’s jaw twitches twice, brows slightly furrowed with his cellphone held against his chin. No doubt in an internal debate with himself.

 

Steve moves closer to nestle up against Tony’s side. As if just realizing the boy is awake, Tony’s expression instantly changes and he moves his arm to wrap it around Steve’s shoulder.

 

Tony feels Steve’s hand slip underneath his shirt and slide up to his chest, leaving a trail of Goosebumps in its wake. He feels Steve’s warm breath hit his neck and Steve’s chest rise and fall against his side.

 

Closing his eyes, he wonders how the hell he could have gone on so long without this. What the hell would he have done if he hadn’t found Steve again?

 

Deciding against thinking such, Tony looks down at what he has. Looks at what he isn’t prepared to lose. It makes him brave.

 

Steve extinguishes his fears.

 

One last sigh escapes his parted lips before he turns his cellphone on.

 

Steve’s eyes snap open, eyeing the gadget in Tony’s hand as message after message flood in. The short scoffed chuckle from Tony is Steve’s exact inward reaction.

 

“I guess I should at least let them know I’m alright.” Tony mumbles.

 

Steve doesn’t have to think twice before lifting himself up on his elbows and looking down at Tony.

 

“I’ll be in the lounge if you need me.” Steve places a kiss on Tony’s lips. A kiss that Tony threatens to deepen had he not pulled away on time.

 

With a teasing smile, Steve leaves the room.

 

Steve is half way down the corridor when his stride stills suddenly. An eerie sensation floods his gut as he strains his ears to verify that what he’s hearing is correct, but he still makes no move to get closer to the source.

 

He hears the name again. And then again. And then once more.

 

He isn’t mistaken.

 

Eventually, finding his feet, Steve closes the small distance between himself and the lounge.

 

The television set.

 

Steve hardly takes note of Ms. Wanda staring at the television from the safety of the kitchen doorway, looking only slightly as pale as he feels.

 

It never really matters what is said by who on television, but photographs don’t lie. Steve had hoped that the time he’d seen them in Lee’s office would be the last.

 

Apparently not so.

 

“Oh dear,” Steve looks at the old lady who’s staring at him.

 

Steve feels the need to say something, but he can’t. And so he stares back at the television.

 

Tony being his only concern.

 

As the reporter announces that they’re going to crossover to viewers take on the revelation, Steve finds himself completely absorbed by what the outcome will be.

 

But the channel flips. And the television is suddenly screening a European football game.

 

“I saw it,” Steve is startled by Tony’s voice beside him. “Not bad, huh?”

 

Steve watches Tony drop the remote control onto the couch, clutching the cellphone to his ear with the other hand. He watches Tony walk to the front door. He flinches, snapping out of his trance when Tony shuts the door behind himself.

 

One encouraging glare from Ms. Wanda is all it takes for Steve to follow Tony.

 

“I know,” Steve finds Tony on the porch swing, “I know.” He says again, somewhat solemnly. “No there isn’t.”

 

After carefully sitting down beside Tony, that close, he can hear the voice on the other end of the line that is almost akin to Tony’s.

 

“We’ll speak when I get home,” Tony says, repositioning himself so that he’s lying flat on his back with his head resting on Steve’s lap and one leg swinging over the arm rest. “I don’t know when, Dad.”

 

Steve runs his fingers through Tony’s hair, taking in the tired look on the boy’s face. He’s exhausted too. He sighs as he gently rocks the swing.

 

“I’ve got more important things to worry about.”

 

Steve smiles, holding Tony’s gaze for several seconds before Tony shuts his eyes as if Steve is distracting him.

 

“I can’t promise anything,” Tony finally speaks again with a sigh. “It’s not gonna be easy, but I’m gonna try for this one.”

 

Steve concentrates on Tony’s ear, delighting in the shade of red it turns under his fingertips.

 

“Send Mom my love,” Tony says, and then scoffs after a moment, “I’d like to think you do. You’ve got an odd way of showing it.

 

Steve senses the ice in Tony’s words despite the calm expression on his face.

 

“Bye, Dad.” It sounds final regardless of the his father sounding determined to continue the conversation.

 

Tony shoves the phone into his pocket and then places his hand over Steve’s which is resting on his stomach.

 

“You don’t wanna talk about it,” Steve isn’t sure if it’s a question or an observation, but he’s prepared to listen either way.

 

“Apparently he’s got some master plan to make the world think it’s just another media fabrication.”

 

“What are you gonna do?” Steve asks carefully.

 

When several uncomfortable moments pass without a word, Steve grows slightly tense. Here Tony is, far away from home, dealing with the idea of everyone knowing a truth that he is just starting to learn how to handle himself. Who knows what the world is doing with the information. Who knows where it will all lead.

 

Steve feels responsible.

 

He’s worried about Tony. Concerned about his career, yes, but most of his emotion is directed at the boy. His family. His future.

 

“Tony,” Steve finally speaks, “I don’t want to be in your way.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Tony’s instantly sitting up and Steve immediately feels like he has to explain himself.

 

“Your family, Tony,” Steve holds Tony’s challenging glare, “it feels like I’m in the way of your reconciliation. In the way of…sort of… everything.”

 

“Don’t talk like that, Steve,” Tony’s frowning, “listen to me, I need you right now.”

Tony looks down for a second as if deep in thought. “I need you, okay? Don’t let my father win again. He’s not gonna ruin this for me. If you want me to leave... If you.... you wanna leave me, let it be because you don’t want me anymore.”

 

Steve senses the urgency in Tony’s words though he sees none of it on his face. Tony’s getting better and better at masking pain and Steve hates the fact that he’s part of the reason for it. He hates the fact that he had ever caused Tony pain and doubt and is currently doing it again. He’s torn between what he wants and what Tony wants and it all feels wrong weighing against what is expected.

 

“Please,” Tony speaks. “Let me know now.”

 

And then he thinkst about how every single thing over the past few months has been completely unexpected. From getting the role in the movie, to embarrassing himself in front of Tony when they first met. From their first kiss in front of the world to Tony showing up at his door admitting his feelings. Their heated nights together and the initial bust of the affair. Every single moment had been a rush.

 

Steve decides that he likes the unexpected since it’s what’s expected when being with Tony Stark.

 

“I’m not done with you yet” Steve says quietly, the gentle words breaking the tension that had risen between the two of them.

 

He realizes, as a small smile tugs the corner of Tony’s lips, he’ll probably never be done.

 

“So,” Steve moves into Tony’s offered open arm, “what are you gonna do now?”

 

“I dunno,” Tony shrugs. “Maybe.... learn how to play the guitar?”

 

“Maybe I’ll teach you.” Steve smiles sheepishly.

 

Tony closes the distance between them, placing a much needed kiss on Steve’s waiting lips. He’s slightly annoyed when Steve pulls away so suddenly, but the smile on Steve’s face effortlessly softens him.

 

“You know what,” Steve says thoughtfully, “This is kinda like in the script.”

 

“Fuck the script,” Tony grins, not caring that he catchest Steve halfway through a chuckle as he joins their lips once again.

 


	22. Chapter 22

EPILOGUE

 

The studio is packed, not a single empty seat in the house. Tons of eager fans sit cheering, not listening to what the talk show host is rambling on about, and none of them really caring what’s being said.

 

How can they when they’re seconds away from seeing Tony Stark, in the flesh.

 

Tony nudges Hogan on the arm as they walk down dark passageways.

 

“Doesn’t this give you Déjà Vu?” Tony grins at the man as people rushpassed them, up and down, all acting professional.

 

“Not in the least,” Hogan shrugs, and then grins when Tony playfully hits his arm. “You gonna be okay out there?”

 

“Relax, Hogan,” Tony smiles broadly, “I’ve got a handle on this.”

 

“That’s what I like to hear,” Hogan nods before patting Tony’s shoulder.

 

“Hey, are you sure your boy is ready back there,” Tony says as an afterthought, “He looked kinda green just now.”

 

“That’s exactly how you looked when you first started,” Hogan frowns, “he’ll be fine. Pepper’s calming him down.”

 

“Tony, please,” a man with a headset and clip board urges him to keep following, “You’re on in less than three minutes.”

 

Tony gives Hogan one last salute, chuckling when Hogan salutes back.

 

*****

 

He isn’t about to deny it, he’s rusty. The smile is original, the wave is reserved and he actually has to look where he’s stepping a couple of times.

 

Four years out of practice and it’s certainly showing.

 

The audience doesn’t seem to notice though as they cheer Tony’s big entrance onto stage. The talk show host stands as Tony nears, letting out her hand ready to shake his.

 

Her red hair falls over slender shoulders, red lips even glossier up close, and though Tony can never quite see Natasha Romanov as a civilized human being, he decides he’ll try to at least attempt to tonight.

 

“Well, Tony Stark,” Natasha grins, “It’s certainly been a while.”

 

“Going on five years now, right?”

 

“Feels longer. I guess the PG rated version of the question on everyone’s mind is, where the hell have you been?”

 

The audience laughs and rants to spur Tony on.

 

Hogan stands in the control room, unable to take his eyes off of Tony. He only flinches slightly when he feels a hand on his back.

 

“He looks great, doesn’t he?” Pepper says quietly, not wanting to disturb the people around them, hard at work.

 

Hogan simply nods, taking in the polished look that Tony is sporting. Hogan picked the suit out for him. Everyone seems more shocked that Tony actually wore it.

 

Pepper’s paying more attention to Tony’s smile. It’s completely different now as he elaborates his experiences over the past years. As he speaks about Steve and the aftermath of the outing. About how he lost a whole lot of fans and gained a wave of new ones. About a letter he received from an anonymous high school boy who claims that Tony had inadvertently saved his life.

 

She knows that everyone’s looking at Tony in a different light, but doubts anyone notices the change as much as she does.

 

Tony, the boy she was once infatuated with is now a young man. The boy she’d offered love not excepting anything in return. Well at least not the way she’d wanted it. Pepper is hardly sure if she’d ever even wanted it herself.

 

It does dawn on her that she’s possibly been just as confused as Tony.

 

She likes the idea that both of them have grown in more ways than one.

 

Tony has turned down countless interviews for ages, he’s dismissed hundreds of request. Which is probably why everyone is astonished that he personally phoned Natasha Romanov, asking for an appearance.

 

“It seems like it’s been quite a ride for you, Tony.” Natasha smiles. “What moment would you say has been the highlight of it all?”

 

Tony doesn’t even  have to think about it for a second.

 

“I would have to say when my father-in-law made his full recovery,” Tony says, becoming slightly serious. “I mean, doctors said he would never walk again. I’ll tell you now; he’s doing a lot more than walking.”

 

“So your father-in-law is Steve’s father,” Natasha raises a brow. “How are your families taking it.”

 

“Let’s just say, thanksgiving never gets boring.”

 

The crowd laughed at the face that Tony made. “I would hope that _my_ father could join us some time.

 

“Stark senior not taking it well?”

 

“Gotta give the guy credit for trying,” Tony shrugs.

 

“Four and a half years does seem pretty long though.”

 

Tony doesn’t have an answer to that. He merely makes a face that shows that, probably, for the first time ever, he and Natasha agree on something.

 

“And how does Steve feel that he’s the reason for your fallout with your father,”

 

Tony’s face instantly changes and Natasha feels shivers of joy run down her spine. She loves it, loves getting under her guests’ skin.

 

Tony is merely a bonus.

 

“Listen, Natasha, I could be dating Santa-freakin’-Clause, it makes no difference,” Tony states. “My father is the only reason I’m not on the best of terms with him. We’ll leave it at that.”

 

“I see.” Natasha nods, inwardly impressed by just how much the young star has grown. “Well, I understand Steve is here tonight.”

 

Tony’s eyes dart to the front row, to the exact seat. The same place he’s been paying so much attention to all night. He’s sure he isn’t the only one who’s noticed.

 

Steve gives a small wave, blushing under the cameras, feeling terribly uncomfortable with the roar of the crowd.

 

Tony grins at Steve, finding amusement in the situation. It all feels so complete.

 

“Aren’t you a lucky young man, Steve Rogers,” Natasha muses, gaining a roar of approval from the audience once again.

 

“Knowing you, Tony,” Natasha continues once she has enough silence, “You always have something up your sleeve. Any new projects you’d like to share with us.”

 

“I’m actually working on something with Stan Lee,” Tony grins. “Who knows, second time may be lucky.”

 

“Hopefully for Steve’s sake, your co-star is a girl.”

 

Tony joins in on the crowds’ laughter, and not just for show.

 

“I’m strictly behind the scenes for this one,” Tony admits. “I’m enjoying it more this way, in fact. It just makes it so much better my being here tonight that it’s the same night the world will be introduced properly to Sam Wilson, who happens to be the lead in our production.”

 

“It all sounds incredibly exciting,” Natasha says genuinely. “Are you able to share any of it with us.”

 

“As usual, I can’t say much,” Tony admits with a smile, “It’s still in its baby stages, you know?”

 

Tony thinks for a while, taking in the audience disappointment. With a tilt of his head and a twinkle in his eye, Tony sits back and clears his throat.

 

 _He’s gonna do it_ , Hogan thinks, with a shake of his head.

 

It’s only been four years; no one could’ve expected Tony Stark to change _completely_.

 

“However, I think I can manage to get away with a tiny spoiler,” Tony announces, regaining his childhood ease. “It’s a true life love story. It’s called, _The Script_.”

 


End file.
